Complete Possession
by Autumn's.Reign
Summary: AU HD Seventh Yr When our boy hero becomes what he was always destined to be, a new life descends upon the inhabitants of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, this change doesn't frighten anyone more than it frightens one Draco Malfoy.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Vampire stories, I love them. :P This is set in seventh year…let's say that, for now, most of what happened in HBP didn't happen and that DH still doesn't exist…Yeah. The story works that way, I think. Yeah.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, I do not claim to own anything, heck, I'm broke. If I owned Harry Potter, would I be broke? JK Rowling owns all and…well, she just owns it.

* * *

Prologue

In the early morning hours of Monday the eleventh day of August, Harry James Potter the Boy Who Lived, resident Gryffindor Golden Boy, one third of the Golden Trio, Wonder Boy, The Chosen One, son of Lily and James Potter, and not to mention the expected saviour of the Wizarding World, woke up dead.

Naturally, this came as a rather large surprise to our boy hero.

Harry sat up in bed, the pitch black darkness of night familiar and calming as he tried to make sense of what was happening, or rather, not happening.

First, he noticed that his heart wasn't beating. Alarming, to say the least. Next, Harry realised that he could see everything around him clearly, though it was still very much dark, and he wasn't wearing his glasses. Immediately after this a new realisation came to him as Harry spotted himself in the mirror. He almost cried out in fright.

His hair was the same colour, the same length and thickness – it was even still messy. His eyes were still as green as ever, though they seemed to glitter as he stared. His scar was still there, marring his otherwise unblemished skin. Even his skin was the same honey brown; and his muscles remained Quidditch-toned…

Really, the only difference Harry noticed were the wings protruding from his back. They definitely weren't there when he fell asleep last…

Harry fell back into his small bed, and winced as he fell awkwardly on his wings. He frowned at them, their inky black colour mixing in perfectly with the shadows of his small room. If he his eyesight hadn't suddenly gotten so sharp, he wouldn't have seen them as anything more than a pool of darker darkness.

Sitting so that he didn't squish his new appendages, Harry tried to think of what could have happened to him in a few short hours. He glanced at the clock. It read thirty one minutes past four. There wasn't anything significant about that, he reasoned.

His window was just as it was, closed and latched. Hedwig was away, delivering one of Harry's twice-weekly letters to Ron and Hermione. She wouldn't be back until later that day.

The door to his room was the same, too. The locks hadn't been forced, and the empty bowl that had held dinner was still sitting where it had been.

So…no one had stolen in and done anything to him.

Harry huffed disconsolately, placing his elbow on his knee while resting his head on his hand – and yelped in surprise. He hurriedly pulled his hand away from his face, and stared in confusion at the dark blood that stained his suddenly very long and very sharp fingernails.

"What the hell!?" Harry whispered, feeling as though his whole world were falling away, reality leaving him for several drawn-out moments.

Then he yelped again as he realised that talking had _hurt_!

Raising a tentative hand to his mouth, Harry touched his index finger to the inside of his lip, and he started to panic when he brought the hand back into his vision. Blood, there was blood on his fingers again!

He took a deep breath – and panicked even further when he realised that he wasn't breathing!

A cold sweat broke over his chilled skin – _chilled_? Since when was his skin so cold!? – And he looked around wildly for an answer. Though that was silly, why would there be an answer in his room? He ran his tongue nervously over his teeth.

His eyes widened further, and he grimaced. What the _hell_ happened to his teeth!?

Harry wanted to cry in frustration and confusion. It was all too much for him to take in. What did this mean? What the _fuck_ had happened to his body – could he fly with those wings?

And then…like a beacon in a fog, the answer came to Harry almost as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world, and he had been foolish not to realise it sooner.

He was a vampire.

"Great…" he said sarcastically. Another thing to set him apart.

But for some inexplicable reason, this knowledge calmed Harry down immensely. He even smiled slightly in satisfaction from knowing the truth. Far from making him feel odd, or like a freak, he only felt a sense of calm, and acceptance. Like he knew, deep down, that this was what he was supposed to be.

Then, a thought came to him. What should he do? How would people react when they found out that he was a vampire?

What could he do? That was a thinker.

He studied Hedwig's empty cage for a few long moments and then stood up, catching his wand in his hand as he did so.

Making a snap decision, and following some weird instincts that were suddenly warring around his mind, Harry gathered everything from the secret spot under the loose floorboard and put it in his trunk. Somehow knowing that he wouldn't need it, Harry tucked his Invisibility Cloak in the trunk, too.

Next, he gathered everything else of his that was strewn around the room. After dumping it all in the trunk Harry fished out a piece of parchment, some ink and a quill.

Harry wrote a short letter to his friends, and after re-reading it and deeming it acceptable, Harry put the quill and ink back in his trunk, locked it and placed Hedwig's empty cage on top. Folding the letter, Harry slid it into Hedwig's cage.

He briefly considered writing one for the Dursleys, but decided that they wouldn't really care if he disappeared.

Standing back, he brandished his wand in a silent spell – hardly marveling that he could even accomplish that when he hadn't been able to no matter how hard he tried last year – and watched passively as all this worldly possessions thus far disappeared.

Sighing, Harry pocketed his wand and opened his window.

He wanted to know if he really _could_ fly.


	2. I

**A/N: **Hmm. If anyone gets confused, or you feel I'm leaving vital information out, please tell me. I get lost in my own little world sometimes, and because this story isn't planned out perfectly in my mind, I'm likely to forget...Anyway, thanks for the reviews and happy reading.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it, J.K. Rowling does. Etc.

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Chapter One

Draco Malfoy was bored. He sighed as he reclined further into the almost-so-comfortable-that-it-was-uncomfortable seat and looked at Blaise with indifferent eyes.

He really didn't care what Blaise had to say.

But the youth continued to prattle on about all the amazing things he did that summer, oblivious to Draco's disinterest. Crabbe snorted in his sleep and his head crept a little further down the window of their compartment in the Hogwart's Express.

"…it was so exciting, falling through the air like that, nothing to catch you but the spell, mother near had a fit, but I know she did enjoy herself…"

Draco stifled a yawn.

What did he care for stories of Wizard Free-Falling? Gosh, when would people learn that his time _meant_ something!

Draco stood up, cutting Blaise off mid-sentence.

"Rounds," he said off-handedly, and walked out of the compartment as casually as he could while fleeing his babbling friend.

Closing the door behind him, Draco marched off down the corridor. He might as well do rounds, put truth into his lie.

Setting the scowl on his face, Draco sneered at a Hufflepuff Second Year. She squeaked and darted into a nearby compartment. Draco smirked, loving his effect on people.

His Hogwarts robes billowing out behind him as he walked, Draco stared down every stray kid that stood in his way, the Head Boy badge pinned to his robes gleaming proudly.

As he reached the third carriage hushed voices drifted from a compartment up ahead, and Draco snuck closer, careful to keep his steps silent.

The door to the compartment was open a few inches, obviously not closed properly in someone's haste. Draco stopped next to the door, leaning in closer to hear what was being said the better.

"…says no-one's heard from him!" Draco recognised the voice as the Weasel's.

"How could he have just…disappeared?" Granger's voice asked worriedly. Draco's eyebrow rose. They couldn't be talking about Potter, could they? Come to think of it, he hadn't seen him on the platform when he arrived, and Potter's presence was so universally acknowledged that he usually ended up seeing him.

"I don't know, 'Mione." Weasel said pensively. "But he sent that letter to us, so he wasn't kidnapped, or anything."

The Mudblood sighed. "I just don't know what to make of this. Why would he leave without a reason? Furthermore, why would he leave without us? We're his best friends! He tells us everything! I don't know what this means. I don't know what to do…"

There was the sound of clothes shifting, and Draco peeked into the compartment to see Ron had put an arm around Hermione comfortingly.

"What are we supposed to do, Ron?" Granger asked in a sad whisper.

"Nothing." He replied. "Harry told us not to go looking for him, so we won't. He wouldn't have done this if he didn't feel he had to."

"Oh, Ron." Granger whispered, and Draco could even hear the tears in her voice. "I'm so worried. What if he doesn't come back? What if he shows up dead?"

Weasel shushed her and said soothingly, "Nonsense, 'Mione. Harry's responsible. He has his wand and the best luck of anyone I know. He'll be fine, and back at school just as he said in his letter."

The Mudblood sniffed. "I hope you're right."

"I know I am,"

Having heard all he could Draco left the carriage as silently as he had entered.

Frowning in thought Draco finished his rounds, scaring three First Year kids and aggravating six Fourth Year Gryffindors before he reached the last carriage.

He glanced around the carriage, scouring the darker corners for couples and the like. This was the last carriage, and the most deserted, usually. Many students have taken advantage of the privacy before.

Having satisfied himself with the knowledge that no one was there but himself, Draco turned to leave and return to being bored to an early death by Blaise.

…And nearly running into the youth who had suddenly sprung up in his path as he did so.

"Hey!" he snapped, angry at being surprised. He hadn't heard this kid approach him! "Students aren't allowed in this part of the train! Get back to your compartment!"

Draco scowled at him, but the shadowed youth just stared Draco down, sending involuntary shivers down his spine. Draco looked the youth over, noting the black leather jacket, black jeans and black shirt. He could see the light muscle build under that shirt, and the boy's emerald-coloured eyes caught what little light there was in a way that entranced Draco and pulled him in, unable to resist the lure.

Trying to snap out of his trance, Draco opened his mouth to demand to know why he wasn't in his school robes yet, but the creature spoke before Draco could make a sound.

"Hmm," he murmured, his voice husky, silky and deceptive – roping Draco in further. "Interesting…"

Draco tried to swallow around his suddenly dry throat. The youth stepped closer and Draco couldn't help but notice the coldness that surrounded him, instead of a human's warmth…who was this?

Goosebumps raised on Draco's flushed skin as the creature took another step forwards, mere inches from where Draco stood, frozen.

"Who would've known…" the voice muttered near Draco's ear, ghosting across his now heated skin.

Draco sucked in a breath, feeling the creature lean in yet further, almost touching him and yet not touching.

"You smell so…amazing…" a cool nose pressed against Draco's neck, and Draco almost whimpered at the feeling. He hadn't lost his composure like this since the day he lost his virginity.

"Mm… so delicious… so _perfect_…" the voice was so soothing, smooth and sexy all at once. Draco felt it wrap around him like a cocoon and make him slip further away from reality.

A tongue slipped from the creature's mouth and ran over Draco's exposed neck, eliciting a moan as Draco continued to strive for breath.

He gasped, feeling something sharp scrape over his skin. He didn't mind, though. He didn't realise the danger in the act, he was still hypnotised by the feeling travelling through his body, the tingling in his skin and the rush and heat of his blood, drumming loudly in his ears.

The creature hissed in approval, wanting but reluctant to act any further.

"So perfect…so divine," he whispered against Draco's neck, sucking on the skin, bringing the blood to the surface. He moaned, suddenly, and the sound vibrated through Draco, making him tilt his head further to give the creature better access.

The sensation stopped, and Draco blinked at the loss, missing the feeling of the creature against his skin, wanting him to build the fire that he had started within him.

"No…mustn't, not now." The creature said, almost to himself. "So tempting, though, so very tempting."

Draco frowned at him, suddenly wondering at the words this creature continued to whisper to himself.

"Who are you?" he asked, still breathless.

The creature smirked and his emerald eyes flashed, stirring a memory within Draco.

"No…"

His smirk widened and he let his cold hand caress Draco's pale cheek, almost lovingly.

"Oh, yes…" he said, dangerously, Draco thought. "And you listen to me, Draco. You're mine now. I'll be watching you. I'll know who you talk to, where you go, and what you think. Do not think to enrage me, because you do not want to do that."

He pressed himself against Draco, letting him feel his arousal, telling Draco much more than he ever could with meager words.

Try as Draco might, he couldn't help his own reaction to that icy coldness, the feel of this creature against him.

"No," Draco whispered again, in denial.

The creature smirked. "Yes. You're mine, Draco, in every way. I've staked my claim, you can't refuse it, and only a fool would challenge it."

Draco tried to shake his head, break free from this creature who so boldly told him what he was, that Draco belonged to him, but he couldn't. The creature wouldn't let him.

"_Mine_." Harry hissed.

And then he was gone, as quickly and silently as he had come.


	3. II

**A/N:**Thank you to those who reviewed, I really appreciate it! Here's chapter two, I'm not too sure about it, and I can't remember what went through my mind as I was writing it last night…

I'm sad to say I don't know when the next chapter will be out. I hope to have it out on Tuesday, if not, then no later than Friday.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does, and I envy her.

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Chapter Two

Harry walked down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables in the Great Hall. His feet made no sound as they touched the stone pavement, and his clothing made none of the usual rustlings clothing made. In fact, none of the teachers at the head table would have noticed his presence at all had Severus Snape not been alert to his surroundings.

As it was, when Harry was half-way across the Hall Snape jumped to his feet in alarm and the talk that had lulled over the student-less room stilled in surprise and trepidation.

Snape's eyes fixed on Harry's form as he continued his unhurried and relaxed walk towards the teachers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Those black, cold eyes that were always guarded against all unwanted intrusions, emotional and malicious, narrowed in recognition.

"Potter." Snape spat the word, though the venom was diminished by the hint of surprise and curiosity that the man couldn't help but feel.

McGonagall gasped and jumped to her feet, ignoring the twitters of her fellow teachers as she peered closer at Harry, seeing the resemblance…and sensing the aura around him.

"Potter? Harry?" she asked him, almost too softly for Harry to hear.

He quirked his lip in answer and halted three feet from where she stood at Dumbledore's usual seat at the head of the table. The Headmaster's seat.

Harry watched her for a few moments, thinking.

Snape cleared his throat and Harry turned his eyes to the Potions Master, an eyebrow raised in querie.

"Well?" he pressed, without elaborating. The questions on everyone's lips were obvious.

Harry let his mouth form a lazy smirk, the expression somehow contrasting with the Gryffindor robes he had changed into not minutes before he had entered the Hall.

His eyes returned to Professor McGonagall.

"I would like to request a private audience with the Headmistress after the Welcome Feast, if I may?"

There was a tense moment of silence before the new Headmistress could answer.

She glanced at Snape and then stared once more into the eyes of her pupil. He had changed, he was different. She wasn't sure if he was even her pupil anymore. Could this be Harry Potter? He was…and yet, he wasn't.

"You may."

Harry bowed to her politely.

"Snape may attend, if it is to his convenience." Harry added, almost as an afterthought. "His presence is one I would have chosen in due time, in any case. This shall save time."

Snape's lip curled into a snarl. It was true - he wanted to be there when the boy told the Headmistress how – and why – he had disappeared so foolishly. But that second comment gave Snape pause. What did the boy mean?

Harry turned and stepped back to retrace his steps. When he was almost at the door, Professor McGonagall called out to him.

"Will you be staying for the feast, Potter?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder at her and the rest of the teachers, all of whom were still shocked and silenced by his appearance.

"I have no reason to, Professor."

The doors of the Great Hall closed with a soft thud behind him.

* * *

"Do you see him?" Hermione asked, feeling her worry seep further into her bones. Why hadn't Harry shown up yet?

Ron bounced on his tippy-toes, searching over the crowd of heads for that mop of messy obsidian black.

"No," he replied, somewhat frustrated. _What's going on, Harry_? He wondered silently. _What are you doing_,_why can't you tell us_?

They climbed into a nearby empty carriage, pulled by the invisible thestral. They had seen Hagrid as they stepped onto the Hogsmeade platform, and he had asked them the same questions everyone else had,_where's Harry_?

They still didn't know, and they had watched as Hagrid moved away, calling for the First Years to follow him.

Ron and Hermione travelled to the Castle in brooding silence.

The Gryffindor table seemed more subdued than usual. Most had noticed the absence of their most prominent student, and the meaning and significance of this was not lost.

With times as they were, who knew what would happen next? And with Harry at the top of that list, it was no small certainty that he would be first priority to the Dark Lord.

The rest of the students filed into the castle, and Hermione was sad to see that there were many who hadn't returned.

The new Headmistress stood up, and gestured for silence, though there wasn't much noise anyway.

She cleared her throat and gave the assembled room a long, firm look. But she was welcoming in her composure and a few hopeful students dared to imagine a relatively peaceful year ahead in her reassuring presence.

"The loss of Headmaster Dumbledore impacted us all deeply here at Hogwarts. We lost a great man, a man who dedicated the better part of his life to education and this school. He will be missed, and we have mourned his departure."

She paused. "But he would not want us to dwell on these darker aspects of life. By merely attending school this year, you are fulfilling his wishes by ensuring the continued education of yourselves, and therefore the advancement of our world. I thank you for this commitment, and I bid you welcome."

Hermione blinked back tears as the Professor fell silent, and the last of her words echoed for a few moments before disappearing into the stone of the Castle. It was another memory for the Halls, another moment that the Castle would always remember, even when all those who witnessed it are long gone.

Professor Flitwick toddled out in front of the Head Table carrying the Sorting Hat on its stool. It looked awkward, but he seemed to manage the task well enough. Hermione heard Ron hold back a snigger and she elbowed him in the stomach.

The First Years walked through the doors then, and Hermione smiled wistfully as she remembered her first year at Hogwarts, the feeling of apprehension she had tried to smother by reciting all she had read about the Hall in _Hogwarts: A History _to whoever would listen.

But the memory was extinguished when she saw how few the First Years were, and the frightened look that was in each of their eyes.

They were still only small children, Hermione realised with no small amount of grief. They had come to school, though there was a war raging before their uncomprehending eyes, and they couldn't feel safe, not yet, without their parents' presence.

Three of them were Sorted into Gryffindor, two boys and a girl. Two into Hufflepuff, only one in Ravenclaw, and none at all were sorted into Slytherin. They, more than any other house, had the least amount of students return.

Hermione spotted Malfoy sitting with his friends at the Slytherin table, and she thought that maybe he was feeling the same things she was.

Professor McGonagall made a speech, the standard rules and regulations that were in place every year, but added that the rules would be reinforced this year, more than any other for safety reasons.

The war that rent the Wizarding World into pieces was real, and it reached even Hogwarts.

* * *

The moon was at its fullest, a bright disk that illuminated the entirety of Hogwarts School in a glow of soft light. The stars shone, twinkling as merrily as they ever did – oblivious to strife, death and war.

Harry watched this all, and he envied the moon and the stars their simple existence. They had simple purposes, and did not feel the woes of humankind. They only watched it from afar, indifferent, immortal.

Though Harry himself was no longer human, no longer mortal, he still felt all the shortcomings of his prior race. The emotions he felt were still his burdens to bear, and his future was still among these people.

A soft breeze rose, making Harry's hair sway with its rhythm. The breeze had brought with it the sounds of chairs being scraped against a stone floor and students talking quietly among themselves as they walked as a group. The feast was over, then.

Harry sighed, and wondered if his brash decision were really the best course of action. His eyes roved once more over the black sky, punctured by those stars. He supposed it was – he couldn't keep his secret forever.

Standing up, Harry took two steps and fell off the Astronomy Tower roof. Landing agilely on his feet (much like a cat) Harry walked into the Castle and headed for the Headmaster's – or Headmistress's – office.

He realised that he didn't know the password as he stood before the gargoyle that guarded the entrance, and frowned in thought. It wouldn't be another lolly name, would it?

But he was spared the trouble of figuring it out blindly when footsteps echoed in the passageway behind him. Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape walking towards him.

They each nodded in greeting, but said no more. The password was given and the three took position on the revolving stairwell, arriving at the door to the Headmistress's office shortly thereafter.

Once they had each taken a seat (Snape and Harry having declined the offered tea), Professor McGonagall behind her desk, all three of them found that none was willing to speak the first words.

Finally, Snape found the persistent quiet intolerable.

"Potter," he sneered. "Are you going to inform us of the reasoning behind your little disappearance act, or are you going to remain in insufferable silence as the world crumbles down around our ears?"

Harry's Head of House looked at Snape sharply. "Now, Severus. There's no need to speak in that tone. Harry can tell me everything in his own time."

Harry shook his head.

"No, it's why I'm here." He took a breath – though he didn't need to. It was more of a habit than an actual need for breath. "Firstly, I'm sorry that I left without any notice, or explanation. Only that small note to my friends instructing them with the care of Hedwig and my possessions – but in my defence, I can't really explain what had gone through my mind at the time."

Harry looked out the window, at the shadows that eclipsed the Quidditch Pitch at night.

"I was – I was just numb."

He paused and glanced at his teachers of six years past. Somehow, he knew he could trust them – and trust them both. Though this warred with six years of hate against Snape, Harry's new instincts were never wrong.

"You see, I'm a vampire." Harry saw that Professor McGonagall wanted to say something, but he held up his hand for her to stay silent. He had to get this out.

"I know what you're thinking – vampire? How's that possible, what does this mean? Well, I don't know. I don't have any answers. I'm here to tell you about what I am. I've done that, now, and because I trust you both –" Snape looked at Harry quizzically, but Harry only smiled mysteriously and continued with what he was telling them.

"- I'll tell you more than that. I left because I had to be who I was; I needed to find solitude, peace within myself. Don't ask me why, and why I couldn't have said that earlier, I don't know. I do know that I've come to terms with this new self, my new self. I'm a vampire, and I can live with it and my new powers. I understand my limitations, and what being a vampire means. I want to tell you that I am no threat to your students, or anyone else."

"How can I be sure that what you tell me is the truth? Or that you won't accidentally attack a student?" the Headmistress interrupted.

Harry looked at her steadily. "Because I give you my word. I know what I'm doing, trust me. I may be a new-born vampire, but I know everything I need to know - and more - about what I am, and I can therefore control myself a lot better than many who are less fortunate than myself."

The Professor nodded, almost surprised that she took the answer as proof – but she did, as though she were following some deep prior knowledge within herself.

"I can't explain a lot of what I am, now." Harry continued, and it was almost as though he were simply voicing vague thoughts, rather than explaining anything to his two professors. "Nor can I assure you that I've learnt the errors of my ways and I know not to do anything as reckless as disappearing only weeks before the beginning of term.

"Because, I will do reckless things. I will break the rules, and do many things without permission or even notifying anyone that I've gone anywhere. I'm telling you this because you need to know what I may or may not do without a thought – you need to know so you won't panic, and you need to know that I can look after myself.

"Please, don't hinder me in whatever I do. I will not excuse any behaviour I may present, but I cannot tell you that what I do does not have its own reasons."

Snape watched the boy with conflicted thoughts. On the one hand, this was the same boy that had been the bane of his existence ever since he stepped foot in this Castle. On the other hand, it was a changed boy. He was different, more mature, more accepting and open. But at the same time, he was more dangerous.

Power rolled off the boy in waves. Magic almost sizzled in the electrified air around the boy, and Severus felt the pull of a potent wizard as well as the undercurrent of a highly powerful creature. He wasn't just the average Harry Potter from the past any longer. He was more than that; this boy was the real Harry Potter, the Harry Potter that was destined from birth.

Snape wanted so desperately to deny the boy what he was asking, to spite him once more and say that he wouldn't have the freedom he was asking for. But Snape knew that such actions were folly, and Harry would still act as he saw fit no matter the restrictions pressed upon him.

Snape sighed, allowing his hatred of Harry Potter to seep away from him, if only a little. Harry still had a ways to go.

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had come to a similar conclusion as Snape, if not for the same reasons.

"Very well, Harry." She acceded. "We will not hinder you, and neither shall the other staff. Though I can't say the same for the students."

Harry nodded, satisfied. He had been right in trusting the two of them.

"But I warn you not to break any rules other than what is strictly necessary." The Headmistress cautioned him. "Do not make it blindingly obvious that you are breaking rules, and do not make a habit of getting caught. I am giving you lenience, Harry, do not abuse the trust I am giving you."

Harry tilted his head in acknowledgement. "It is more than I could hope for – thank you both."

Professor McGonagall nodded, and Harry left the room with a short bow.

As the sounds of the stairway moving reached their ears, the weary Headmistress turned to her peer in question.

"Have I done the right thing?"

"What is the right thing, Minerva?" Severus asked her rhetorically. "You did what you deemed right, what more can anyone ask of you?"

She sighed and sat back in her chair. "I don't know what to make of this, do you?"

Severus ran a hand through his hair – a nervous habit that was uncharacteristic of him.

"No, Minerva." He replied softly. "What could anyone make of that? It – it was almost so impossible that if he had been anyone else I wouldn't have believed him. The best we can do now is protect his secret and do as he asked of us."

Outside, the moon began to set as it reached the early hours of morning.


	4. III

**A/N:** Another day, another chapter…xD Hope we all enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** You can't prove I own it! Nyaa!

* * *

Chapter Three

Draco sighed. So few had returned this year, and Draco was surprisingly effected by this.

The fire crackled sullenly in the grate, as through matching Draco's feelings.

Draco merely stared into the flames, his mind switching off, numb. He had expected this to happen, but he still hadn't been prepared.

Pansy walked up to his chair and sat on the arm. She stroked his arm lightly, comfortingly, and Draco almost recoiled. There was something wrong about her touch.

"The others have gone to bed," she told him, and he nodded. No one wanted to hang around the large, desolate Common Room. It was colder than it should be.

She touched his hair lightly in understanding and left him alone, walking up the stairs to her empty dormitory.

Not for the first time that evening, Draco put his head in his hands. Had he made the right decision in coming back to school?

His mother was hiding away in Malfoy Manor, fearful and close to insanity. Similarly, Draco's father was on the run from the Ministry, and could be found dead any day. This wasn't the time for school work. It was a time of war, but Draco hadn't been able to stay home, stay away from the Castle. It had been a home to him for six years, and he wanted that last year, wanted to cling to the innocence of schoolwork and Quidditch.

Now that he was here, though, he wondered if he would have been more useful at home, watching his mother's slow deterioration into madness.

So many Slytherins hadn't come back, and this, more than the constant reminder of the war that existed all around them, hit him the hardest. Many of those students will be made into Death Eaters, if they weren't already. But the few that were innocent would be kept away from everything, and would live in constant fear knowing that the Dark Lord would want them in his army.

Draco sighed again and his hand unconsciously went to his left forearm. He rubbed the fabric there, almost feeling the ugly mark that marred his skin through the fabric of his robes.

* * *

Harry watched him as he slept, his features peaceful in slumber. 

Echoes rang in Harry's ears, last night's feelings of desolation and confusion, the wish for guidance, purpose. The need to be helpful, useful. But also the underlying fear, and the desperation that fear inspired.

Harry drank all of this in. It hurt him that Draco felt so downtrodden, so useless and fragile. But Harry loved the scent that these emotions made, the scent that had spread all through the Slytherin Common Room overnight.

Draco had fallen asleep in his chair opposite the fire. Though the fire had long since burnt to cinders and ash, Harry was happy simply watching Draco sleep, memorising his scents and thinking to himself.

The sound of Draco's heartbeat was loud in Harry's ears. It was mesmerising, hypnotic. The steady beat lulled Harry into a dozy state, and if he had been human he would have fallen asleep. But Harry didn't sleep any more, not since that last day at his Aunt's house.

Draco's eyelashes fluttered, and Harry roused himself from his stupor to watch as he woke up.

Draco's breathing shifted as he returned to wakefulness, and Draco yawned as he sat up, stretching his arms to relieve them of the stiffness that came with sleeping in a chair.

Draco's eyes opened, and Harry marveled at the deep, stormy grey for those few moments that they were unveiled, all of Draco's emotions visible before the shield snapped in place with consciousness.

"Good morning," Harry said softly, from his perch on top of the arm chair he had placed in front of Draco's.

Draco yelped in fright, cringing back into his chair. His mind was still slightly foggy from sleep, but his heart had sped up in fear. Harry focused on the sound for a few long, content moments before Draco recovered enough to speak.

"How did you get in here?" he asked angrily.

Harry smiled impishly. "That's a secret."

Draco scowled at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"What it's supposed to mean." Harry replied. He jumped down from on top of the high-backed chair and stood before Draco.

Draco gulped, watching as Harry's robes settled around him from the sudden movement. He realised that his heart was still beating furiously.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, trying to fight back his mixed feelings of fear and elation.

Harry shrugged and brushed his hair from his eyes, drawing Draco's attention to his eyes. He wasn't wearing glasses, Draco realised belatedly.

"Watching you sleep."

"What?" Draco looked at him incredulously. _Watching_ him _sleep_!?

"I was watching you sleep." Harry repeated.

Draco could only stare at him. Who was this Harry?

But Harry was, for once, oblivious to Draco's thoughts. His glittering emerald eyes had glazed over slightly, and almost without realising it he reached a hand out towards Draco's cheek. His cold fingers grazed the skin there, flushed from sleep, and Draco shivered.

His eyes fluttered closed as the fingers traced his cheekbone, then across his jaw.

Harry watched the expression on Draco's face in rapture. He was an angel, Harry thought, too perfect for this world.

Harry's fingers ran along Draco's slightly parted lips, and the heartbeat that Harry was so aware of quickened even further. Harry could almost feel the reverberations within his own body, but he spared no thought to the time when he himself had had such a heartbeat.

Draco's tongue flicked out, just catching Harry's finger as he withdrew it. Harry bit his lip, keeping the moan from leaving his tongue. That warmth was so welcome, and Harry craved it like he had once craved air.

Leaning in closer to Draco, Harry let his nose rest on the crown of Draco's head, and his other hand rose to rest on the side of his neck. Harry couldn't understand his need to be near Draco, feel his presence in his very being. There had to be a reason for this new attraction, irresistible pull that Draco suddenly had, but right now all Harry could think about was the feel of Draco, the sensations drifting through his body at the blond's nearness.

"So amazing…"

Draco's eyes opened again, and his head tilted back to watch Harry with wondering eyes.

Harry took his fingers away from Draco's lips and grabbed one of his wrists. Pulling him to his feet, Harry switched their positions. Sitting in Draco's seat, Harry stared at a now standing, and slightly puzzled Draco for a few seconds before tugging him down onto his lap.

Draco cried out softly with the sudden momentum, but fell quiet as Harry lifted him so that he straddled his lap.

"What was that for?" he asked crossly, put out by this behaviour.

Harry smirked and buried his nose in Draco's neck. The warmth of his skin, smell of his scent and the sound of his heartbeat called to Harry, and he knew he'd never get enough.

"More comfortable this way," he answered softly.

Draco didn't know how to act. Being in Harry Potter's lap wasn't something he had envisioned himself doing at any point. He sat stiffly, trying to ignore the tingles that ran through his skin like Muggle electricity at Harry's cold touch.

Harry let his fangs grow and run across Draco's pale skin. He marvelled at the softness of that skin. It was so frail, so easy to break and cut and pierce, and yet…it was still so strong, to conceal the lifeblood that lay beneath it.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked him, his voice almost quivering in trepidation. What was Harry doing?

Harry licked the spot his teeth had run over on Draco's skin. There were red marks there, but he hadn't drawn blood. Not yet.

"Tasting," Harry mumbled into that skin. He wanted so badly to break the skin, drink of that blood.

Tremours shot through Draco like ice. Tasting?

Harry felt Draco's fear, smelt it twist through his scent, a sweet acid that punctured the calming fragrance.

"Why are you afraid, Draco?" Harry whispered, and Draco recognised it as the same voice he had used on the train yesterday.

"Do you fear me, or what I might do?"

Draco felt all his breath leave him at once. That voice was dangerous - dangerous and safe at the same time. Draco shook his head, trying to lie to himself.

"No, Draco?" Harry murmured, letting his teeth ghost once more over Draco's skin. He wanted so much to drink of his blood, to taste it, savour it.

"N-no…" Draco stammered, but his eyes had fallen closed again and he pressed his chest into Harry's, trying to feel more of his icy coolness.

"Mm…then, you won't mind if I…" Harry had all but lost the will to speak.

Draco's heart was hammering in his ears, and his warm, heated body was pressed so deliciously against his own that the temptation was too much.

Without warning his teeth plunged into Draco's exposed neck, and his blood rushed to the surface.

Harry moaned as the blood touched his tongue. Draco tasted better than he smelt, and the feeling of the heated blood rushing through him was almost too much for Harry to handle.

Draco gasped at the pain, but the first waves of shock died out as soon as his blood reached Harry. His moans reached Draco's ears and Draco pressed himself further into Harry, unable to stop his body from acting.

Quickly, though careful not to hurt Draco further, Harry dislodged his fangs from Draco's neck. One look at Draco's flushed face and Harry growled deep in his throat.

He pressed his red-stained lips to Draco's and kissed him with passion. The fiery heat of his blood still coursed through him, and he craved more warmth from Draco's body. Harry's tongue slipped past Draco's lips and he revelled in the heat of Draco's own.

Draco kissed him back, caught up in the feeling of Harry's body against his, the pleasure of Harry's cold skin against his own, the remnants of the pain that had stabbed at him for moments before it had been replaced by something better…something incredible.

Harry rolled his hips, pressing his arousal against Draco's own…and Draco's eyes widened in horror.

He shot up from the seat and hastily retreated back from Harry, who looked at him, dazed and confused.

"What was _that_!?" Draco asked him, backing away until he reached a physical barrier to hinder his retreat.

Harry's brow creased in a frown. "What?"

"What was with the – the kissing and the – did you just suck my_blood_!?"

Harry tilted his head slightly to the side. "Yes."

Draco's eyes widened even further, in disbelief. His hand reached tentatively for his neck, and he winced at the blood that he saw smeared on his fingertips.

"What the hell?" Draco looked at Harry, unsure at the revelation that was striving to the forefront of his mind. Surely not…?

Harry stood up, and he kept his eyes trained on Draco with want and wariness.

"What_are_ you?"

Harry smirked at the question. Unabashedly wiping the blood that still stained his lips on his sleeve, Harry took a step towards Draco.

Draco hastily took a step back.

Dipping his head in understanding, Harry let his eyes roam over Draco, noting the blood that had stained his shirt from Harry's bite.

"What I am is inconsequential, Draco." Harry answered him, meeting his eyes.

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Harry held his hand up to silence him.

"You need only remember one thing, Draco. You're mine. More so now that I've tasted of your blood and left my mark on you."

Draco sneered at him. "Say what you like, Potter. But your words mean nothing. I'd like to hear you tell Snape that when he asks you why you bit me."

Harry smirked lazily at him.

"Oh, I'm not worried."

Draco scowled angrily, hating the look in Potter's eyes. "This bite doesn't mean anything, Potter. It'll heal like all wounds, and your claim is nothing to me. I suggest you leave my Common Room before the students wake up and find you here."

Harry snarled and was beside Draco in an instant, holding him by the throat.

"You'll pay for this insolence, Draco." He hissed. "You don't know of what you speak. You are _mine_, and you will come to realise that in time. These little acts of rebellion will not last, I assure you. Else you will regret ever speaking them."

With those words sticking in Draco's mind, Harry released his hold on him and walked out of the Common Room, the door sliding closed behind him, Draco's dishevelled state the only evidence of his ever being there.


	5. IV

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does and I don't claim to, nor shall I ever.

* * *

Chapter Four

Harry lounged back in his chair, watching as the morning sunlight gradually filled the room. It didn't burn him, like the stories seemed to all tell, but that's not to say that Harry enjoyed sunlight thoroughly. In fact, he quite abhorred it, now. He just had to put up with it and ignore his instincts to hide away from it. He had to be seen in school, at the very least.

As the sunlight slowly crawled further and further across the Common Room, Harry waited, somewhat apprehensively, for Ron and Hermione to come downstairs.

He knew that this reunion wouldn't turn out great.

Harry had started re-enacting his last disastrous encounter with Draco in his mind, enjoying the memory of the exact scent and feel of Draco, when the sound of feet descending the stairs reached his sensitive ears.

Tensing, Harry watched as Ron came into view, a puzzled frown on his face. Moments later Hermione could be heard coming down from the girl's dormitories, and she smiled at Ron when she saw him waiting for her in the Common Room.

"Good morning," she said, trying to sound cheerful.

Ron smiled fleetingly and turned his gaze to the window, the frown still in place. "Morning, 'Mione."

She sighed. "Are you ready?"

Ron nodded. "Sure,"

"Good, I hope Professor McGonagall doesn't mind that we're bothering her so early." Hermione mused anxiously. "I'm just so worried – surely she knows something, Ron? She must know some of the secrets Dumbledore had, to keep an eye on Harry."

"Yeah, it sounds logical." Ron agreed, heading over to the portrait hole. "C'mon, let's go before the others wake up."

Hermione followed him, and Harry felt guilty all of a sudden. He should have written his friends a letter, or told them more. They didn't deserve the stress he had caused.

Harry stood up from where he had been hidden in the shadows, and took a step forward into the light. He scowled at the window briefly. Hadn't they ever heard of curtains?

Ron was standing back to let Hermione through the portrait hole when he noticed Harry standing there, silent and waiting.

"Harry!" he gasped.

Hermione cried out and jumped, hitting her head on the frame of the portrait hole as she moved too hastily, but ignored the pain and turned to look at Harry. Her eyes widened when she set eyes on him, and Ron and Hermione found themselves speechless.

Finally, Hermione found her tongue.

"Harry?" she said softly.

Harry smiled sheepishly, scratching his head. "Hi, guys!"

Hermione stared at Harry for a moment longer before launching herself across the room, throwing her arms around him when she reached him.

"Oh, Harry!" she gasped in relief. "We've been so worried! Where have you been!? Why haven't you sent us an owl? What's up with you? Are you all right?"

Harry patted her on the back, somewhat awkwardly.

"I'm fine," Harry told her, disregarding her other questions for now. She looked at him skeptically for a moment, and then released her hold on him.

Ron had walked up to them while Hermione had hugged Harry, but now looked at him as though he had never seen Harry before.

"Mate…" Ron breathed, unsure. "What – what's happened to you?"

Harry couldn't look into his best friend's eyes. How could he tell Ron what he was, how would he take it?

"Well – uh, you see…" Harry glanced at Hermione, who was watching him and listening raptly.

He should have realised he'd have to tell them, Harry thought as he bit his lip in indecision. They had noticed straight away that he wasn't what he had been when they had last seen him, his somewhat darker look and presence was a bit of a giveaway, and they were his best friends. They noticed these things.

"I – I'm a, well –" Harry struggled to say the words.

Hermione's expression was intense now; she could sense the dark secret that lurked beyond Harry's lips. Ron waited warily, unsure – this Harry wasn't the same Harry, and Ron didn't know how to react to that.

"O-over the holidays, something happened to me." Harry took a deep breath (again wondering why he did this when he didn't need to). This was harder than telling McGonagall and Snape. "I, well, I woke up and – and I was different."

Hermione's eyebrows went up. Ron's face twisted into a scowl.

"Well, what I mean to say is – is that I wasn't human." Harry struggled, but the words were still reluctant to come. "I was really surprised, and I just – I just didn't know what I was supposed to do, so I did what made sense, I left my Aunt's house and I wandered around until it was time to leave for Hogwarts."

Harry gave his friends an apologetic look. "I'm really, really sorry I didn't tell you anything, just left you that note. I know it was irresponsible of me…but, I panicked. I needed to be alone, to come to terms with everything. I hope you can forgive me."

Ron and Hermione looked at their best friend since First Year. He was appealing to them for forgiveness, for not including them on something that had obviously affected him deeply. They were hurt by this, that he hadn't been able to tell them, but they understood. However, they wanted to know what this secret was first.

"What happened, Harry?" Hermione asked, as gently as she could. She thought she might already know. How wrong she was.

Harry closed his eyes, and gathered his courage. This shouldn't be so hard. But these were the two people that were practically his family – his brother and sister. He didn't want this to do anything to their relationship, change what they thought about him.

"I-I'm a, um, I'm a vampire." Harry told them softly, almost ashamedly.

There was silence as Ron and Hermione digested this. It was shocking, and something that they couldn't have anticipated in their wildest dreams…and yet, they thought they might accept this. Harry looked so…natural, as he did now. Whereas before the summer he had still been awkward in his movements, as though uncomfortable in his own skin, now he exuded a surety in himself that really showed through his behaviour, though he was still apprehensive of what he had just told them.

Ron was the first to break the silence.

"Harry - mate…" he looked at Harry with unbelieving eyes. "How did this happen?"

Sighing, Harry looked at Ron helplessly. "I don't know, Ron."

Hermione made a sympathetic sound. She couldn't even begin to understand how these things happened to Harry, but she could be there for him.

"It's okay, Harry. We'll figure this out, I promise." Hermione said bracingly, briefly touching his shoulder in support.

Ron shook his head and looked at Harry, questions still visible in his eyes. "Why, Harry? Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

Harry stared at Ron, he wished he had a good answer for that question, he really did, but he just reacted as he did, and the past couldn't be changed this late in the game.

"I can't say, Ron. I just – I just didn't."

Closing his eyes, Ron strove to comprehend what was happening.

"How long have you been at Hogwarts? Does anyone else know about your being – being a…vampire?"

Harry wondered how much was wise to say. "I arrived yesterday; I came on the Hogwarts Express."

Ron's breathing hitched and he glanced sharply at Harry.

"You two are the fourth to know."

"The fourth?" Ron repeated. "What, aren't we important enough to know? Why didn't you announce it yesterday at the feast, then, Harry? Were you at the feast?"

Harry's hopes plummeted. This didn't bode well.

"Look – I've done everything up until now in the way which was necessary. I couldn't tell you first, and I'm sorry that you're upset about it – but I've told you, haven't I? I would have sooner, but things didn't work out that way."

Ron was scowling once more, and Hermione looked faintly hurt.

"Done what's necessary? What do you mean by that?" Ron asked Harry scathingly.

Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration, repressing the anger that threatened to overtake his better judgment.

"I've said I'm sorry, okay?" Harry didn't know what else he could say. "It's just how everything went, but I was always going to tell you guys about this! You're my best friends!"

Hermione smiled at him slightly. "We know, Harry. It's just a bit of a surprise, that's all. But we understand."

Harry smiled back at her, grateful. But Ron was still scowling.

"Who knew before us?"

This isn't good, Harry thought. He bit his lip, unsure of what was best to say. Should he tell them? Ron won't like it – but he'd get offended if Harry didn't tell him, too.

"McGonagall, Snape and Malfoy."

Ron's face started to turn red, and Harry almost growled in aggravation.

"Snape and Malfoy?" Ron said incredulously. "Since when have you been chummy with them!?"

Harry bit back a sharp retort, knowing that anything he'd say would only make matters worse.

Hermione was frowning, as if she didn't know what to make of it. "Why Snape and Malfoy, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, trying to think of a way to convey his reasoning. "It just…it's how it happened."

Harry was aware of how insipid that was, but he couldn't think of a way that Ron could understand.

"Do we mean so little to you, Harry?" Ron asked scathingly. Snape and Malfoy? Of all the people Harry would tell before his best friends, it had to be Snape and Malfoy – McGonagall, he could forgive, and she is the Headmistress – but Snape and Malfoy?!

Harry gave Ron an angry look. "What do you mean, Ron? You know I think of you like a brother – that you're my best friend, just because someone else knew I was a freak before you did doesn't make that any less true!"

Ron refused to be consoled. Harry had betrayed them, and that was something he wouldn't overlook.

"I can't forgive you, Harry." He said, sneering. "Go to your new friends, you obviously don't need us any longer."

With those words Ron turned his back on Harry, and left the Common Room through the portrait hole.

Hermione stood there, silent for a few moments. There were tears standing in her eyes, and Harry pleaded with her in silence, begging her to understand, to forgive him. To be his friend.

She shook her head, confused and afraid. She didn't know this Harry, she couldn't fathom him and she needed to think. She left Harry where he stood alone, and followed Ron out of the room.


	6. V

**A/N:**In my opinion, a rather boring chapter…but necessary. So, yeah. You're forewarned. .

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Harry Potter, nor to I make any profit from this. JK is really the only one who can say that she does…

* * *

Chapter Five

Ron gazed out at the lake with unseeing eyes.

Anger was still clouding his thoughts, his heart pounded in indignation and rage, making him see red and hear nothing but his own furious heartbeat.

How could Harry betray them like this? How could he disregard years of friendship so easily? What in the name of all the Gods could make Harry turn to those two murderers – and not to mention _Death Eaters_ – instead of him and Hermione, Harry's best friends?!

Ron scowled at the water's still surface. It was still the early hours of the morning, and the air was crisp, the grass coated in a layer of dew. Though it was the first day of classes, the students and teachers were yet to wake up to the new day.

But they, unlike Ron and Hermione, did not have any immediate troubles to keep them awake, did not have best friends who disappear suddenly and reappear just as unexpectedly, not only as a different species, as a vampire, but also return with nothing but betrayal in their hearts.

Hermione bit her lip for a lack of anything helpful to do, or say. She was restless, unsure of herself and what was happening around her. She hated the feeling, and the knowledge that she had just walked out on Harry when he needed her most made her stomach churn with unrepressed guilt.

Harry had told them his secret – had confessed to why he had disappeared, why he had deceived them. He had trusted them to understand and, hopefully, forgive him - and what had they done? Freaked out, called him a disloyal friend. Hermione hadn't been sure whether she should fear the new Harry, be in awe of the new Harry or accept the new Harry.

_But_, she thought suddenly, _that's the problem, isn't it_? She was thinking of him as a different Harry, someone who wasn't the Harry that she had known since First Year. Even though Harry was different, he was the same – just, adjusted.

Sighing, Hermione looked over at Ron, whose scowl hadn't abated. He was just as angry and hurt as he had been ten minutes earlier in the Common Room.

He could only see that his friend, his best friend, hadn't been able to talk to him, but had instead gone to Ron's two least favourite people at Hogwarts, people he believed to have committed the murder of their late Headmaster. Snape and Malfoy – they had all been enemies since day one, and yet Harry had gone to them, talked to them in the strictest confidence.

Placing a hand on his slumped shoulder, Hermione smiled shakily at Ron.

"Seeing as we're not going to Professor McGonagall's office after all, and breakfast isn't for another hour and a half, why don't we go to the library?"

Ron looked at her with sad eyes, and Hermione was downtrodden to see complacency in that gaze where Ron would usually have had amusement, and she missed how he would usually have scoffed at being in the library so early in the school year – even before classes had started.

"Sure," he nodded, and Hermione touched his cheek briefly in a soft caress. They both felt the melancholy fall over them like a thick veil they couldn't shrug off.

* * *

Draco yawned and sat up in his bed.

After Harry had left so suddenly Draco had gone up to his bed, where he had been much more comfortable and fallen asleep within moments of his head hitting the familiar pillow.

But now that he was awake, thoughts of Harry came flooding back in a rush, and Draco's eyes closed as the memory took over his consciousness.

What had come over them? Everything he had felt, everything Harry had said and done had seemed so – so not like him, and yet perfectly natural.

Draco shivered as he remembered the feel of Harry's fangs sinking into his skin, Harry drinking his blood…

Was it normal, that it had felt so good? Was it okay that Draco had liked the sensation so much that he wanted Harry to do it again?

Draco's eyes narrowed in speculation. It was obvious that Harry had become a vampire - Draco had come to that conclusion easily. But what did it mean for everyone else? Draco didn't know a lot about vampires. They were secretive creatures, and there wasn't a lot of text written about them. Most of it is just legend, fictitious.

All Draco had to go on were his instincts. Not that they were helping him at the moment – they loved the way Harry acted, the effect Harry had on his body. Draco's mind, however, was telling him that there had to be a reason, and if he's acting so oddly towards Draco, perhaps he's the same with others? What if he attacked other students?

Draco frowned in thought as he buttoned up his shirt. Should he tell someone about this? It would be the right thing to do, and he was Head Boy, it was his responsibility. And, Draco realised, Harry would have to back off if the teachers knew, he couldn't act so boldly around Draco then.

Draco smirked at his reflection, and ran his brush through his hair once more.

Harry shouldn't have messed with Draco Malfoy. Even if he is a vampire, and he's hell-bent on, well, claiming him, Draco wasn't going to let that happen like some sort of willing victim. Draco Malfoy had something to say about Harry Potter's attitude, and his unwavering disregard for authority.

Draco Malfoy had to come up with a plan.

* * *

Harry contemplated the scene that lay before his eyes. It had been many months since he had last experienced what it was to be in a crowd, and Harry thought that it had changed somehow.

He could smell everything, now. What the students had had for breakfast, the mint of toothpaste from brushing teeth – hair, newly washed that morning, or even the night before. Already it was almost overwhelming Harry with all the scents that he was smelling, and then not moments later Harry realised that he could also feel faint resonations of what each individual was feeling, lingering thoughts that the students had had as they walked, apprehension of the first day of school, and always that undertone of fear – that, Harry knew what that was.

Understanding that if he were to touch any of the students, even accidentally, he would feel much more than their lingering emotions and thoughts, Harry stayed out of sight, amongst the shadows. It was strong enough this far away from them all, to be closer would surely cripple Harry with far too much weight all at once.

Harry made a mental note to explore these senses further, to learn how to dampen them. He had toyed with the abilities a little in the last days of the holidays, but hadn't enough knowledge or grasped enough of his power to do any real training at the time.

The amount of students in the hall thinned and Harry chanced slithering along the walls, still out of sight. He, too, was heading towards first period, having picked his timetable up from McGonagall after the other students had received theirs.

He had Charms first, so Harry quickly made his way towards the classroom. If anyone had looked hard enough at the shadows, they would have sworn they saw one move very, very quickly. Of course, it could have just been their imagination.

Harry made it to Charms before the other students, and sat down in the back row amongst yet more shadows. It was instinctual, this need to be in shadow, and Harry reasoned it was his new vampire self that demanded as little sunlight as possible.

Having moved quicker than the other students, Harry had managed to be a few minutes early, and he took the few moments of quiet to think.

But all too soon the sound of rapidly approaching feet echoed down the corridor and Harry sunk a little further into shadow, hoping to hide himself from people for as long as possible.

He could still feel the remnants of the students from the hall earlier, and these last tatters of emotion and thought hung about Harry, making him wary of human contact.

The first students filed into the room, a few Ravenclaws Harry recognised by sight only. They sat at the front of the classroom, and Harry watched them silently. They were excited about the new school year, optimistic about their future, wanting to get into the new theory and practical work as soon as possible. But Harry saw more than those obvious feelings and thoughts. The deeper ones hung over the students like a thundercloud, and Harry almost felt like recoiling from it.

Next were Neville, Seamus and Dean. Following them was the rest of the class, each filing in at once. None noticed Harry until the last moment, and Professor Flitwick entered the room before anyone could do more than gasp in surprise.

"Harry?" Parvati and Lavender had been two of the last to enter the classroom, and they slid into the empty seats beside Harry. "Is that you, Harry?"

Harry smiled at them, careful to keep his fangs hidden. Their eyes widened in fear, shocked at how sinister that smile was.

"What happened to you, Harry? Where have you been, we didn't see you at the Welcoming Feast, or breakfast!" Lavender asked him softly, trying to hide their conversation from the teacher, even though everyone else in the class was straining their ears to listen.

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, sitting two rows in front of him. They hadn't looked towards him, and he felt hurt that they were ignoring him completely.

"I got side-tracked." Harry told them quietly. "Nothing to worry about, though. I was just late, is all."

Parvati and Lavender looked at Harry suspiciously, and Harry sighed, to think that of all people to get to him first, it had to be them. No doubt they were already dreaming up theories on what could have hindered his arrival at the Castle. Harry shuddered to think of the gossip.

Professor Flitwick intervened, then, and though they were still curious and puzzled, Parvati and Lavender turned their attention back to the lesson. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have their attention diverted.

All throughout the class, however, Harry felt the curiosity of his classmates, the bubbling questions waiting to be voiced. Though no one talked as they wrote notes down, all to do with this year's theory and what was to be learnt, no one's mind was truly focused on the task with Harry so blatantly in the room. The yet to be expressed confusion, and the wariness of the new aura around him each of the students felt nearly sent Harry insane. Too many people were feeling the same thing, and this overwhelming presence threatened to overcome Harry's control.

It was harder than he had anticipated. Harry was far more acute than he had given himself credit for, and he was beginning to second-guess himself. It had never occurred to him that simply sitting in class would cause him so much discomfort. That the bitterness between himself, Ron and Hermione would be so painful, and the knowledge that he couldn't confide in them only gave Harry more reason to despise his new powers. Was there no relief to be had? He couldn't imagine going through this everyday, all day. There had to be a way to weaken it, to leave Harry with some semblance of peace, even if his powers were diminished. Anything was better than this torture.

The bell went, signalling the end of the lesson. Harry was snapped from his reverie, but before he could so much as find relief in the end of silent speculation, he was surrounded by the class – even the Slytherins – and a bombardment of questions rained down on him.

Harry's mind blossomed in pain, and he faught to ignore it, knowing that he couldn't reveal that he had returned as anything but what he had been before the summer.

Ron and Hermione left the room, and Harry tried to ignore the twinge of hurt when they didn't even spare a glance his way.

* * *

His temples throbbing slightly, Harry breathed in the cool air of the night with no small amount of contentment. He much preferred this quiet, peaceful time. The students and teachers were all asleep, and with their slumber went their worries, thoughts and emotions. Harry wasn't hindered by them at night, and for this he was thankful.

The trees of the Forbidden Forest were dark, foreboding shadows at night, and their leaves seemed to whisper ominously as a breeze rustled through them. Harry was unafraid, however. The night was his domain, and with night came his true potential, Harry's real self and a more confident surety in who he was. During the day, he hardly knew because of all the imprints left by others, all the feelings he absorbed unintentionally, and he hardly knew what he really felt during those times. At night everything faded away to memory, and Harry was left with nothing but his own feelings, his own troubles, his own worries and his own thoughts.

Though he was not by any means an untroubled and worriless individual, Harry knew that he had the ability to understand himself at night – he could really explore his boundaries then, when he wasn't battling other demons that weren't his own.

His feet making no noise as he walked, Harry smiled as his headache faded away.

"At last," he breathed in relief. All day it had been with him, and Harry despaired to think what it would be to experience that every day – every hour.

Harry sat down abruptly, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest – still within seeing distance of the Castle. Taking a deep breath, Harry closed his eyes and opened himself to his senses.

The sensation of doing this was still odd to Harry, but he couldn't help but realise how natural it was, too. Almost like slipping further into himself.

The last tatters of today's emotions were almost gone from Harry's mind, and Harry let himself drift through the sounds and scents of the night. He could identify so much around him, and still perceive all the dreams emanating from the Castle. It all drifted about his head like a hazy cloud, and Harry floated through it all, letting himself be swept away with the currents of the world around him.

After minutes of swimming through that friendly haze, Harry felt something else wind through it, drawing him out of his doze-like state. This new emanation wasn't friendly, or a dream – nor was it from the Castle or the Forest beside him. It was different…it sounded different, too, hollow.

Harry frowned, still deep within the recesses of his mind. What was it? It felt…malignant. Evil.

Hesitantly, Harry reached out for it. Instead of recoiling like Harry had expected it to, it rushed to meet him, eager. Harry was wary of it, unsure of its intent. What was it?

Harry met the presence, and felt the cruelty and malice flow through him, making his blood boil and his instincts threaten to take over. Harry's grasp slackened on the presence, and it seemed that it almost cooed in satisfaction.

As quickly as the anger and hate had flooded through his body and overcome him, it left Harry just as quickly, and he was left confused and afraid. Frowning, he searched for the presence again. But it wasn't to be found.

Harry was unsure. The presence had overtaken him, however briefly. He hadn't been able to control it, and it had given him emotions he hadn't felt himself. If it wasn't Harry's own feelings, then it was someone else's.

It was an echo of someone's cruelty, someone's evil – and someone else's satisfaction at something done well, and right.

Harry felt a cold sweat break on his brow, another foreboding enshrouding him.

"Voldemort," Harry whispered so softly that even the trees couldn't hear his speech.


	7. VI

**A/N:** Hello. I'd like to thank all reviewers, I really do appreciate it!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, I don't make money from this, JK Rowling does…well, she doesn't make money from my story specifically, I don't think, but you know what I mean.

* * *

Chapter Six

Draco shivered.

He could almost _feel_ those emerald green eyes boring into him. He tried to keep his eyes on his breakfast, but Draco's eyes inevitably went to Potter's – like he couldn't resist.

Scowling at Potter, Draco wrenched his eyes away. He would _not_ spy on the Boy Hero like some doe-eyed love-struck fool! He was better than that – and, anyway, Draco didn't have those sorts of feelings for Harry.

No matter how good he is at kissing and how sexy he looks–

_Stop it_! Draco reprimanded himself. This was no time to ponder abstract and meaningless feelings. Draco had a job to do, responsibilities.

With one final scowl at Potter, Draco slammed his glass down on the Slytherin table and marched out of the Hall with a sneer only a Malfoy could pull off.

Harry smirked. Draco was infatuated, and confused by this infatuation. Brilliant.

Satisfied, Harry followed Draco out of the Hall without bringing attention to himself. It wasn't hard to find the way Draco had gone – there was a line of scared and intimidated Hufflepuff students that he had left in his wake.

His smirk still in place, Harry unhurriedly made his way after Draco. They both had free periods first, and Harry had no qualms about using that time to its full.

Harry had soon caught up to Draco and took a few moments to observe the blonde. He had wound his way through the abandoned corridors on the third floor, and was currently the empty classrooms either side of the hallway.

Curious, Harry flitted in after Draco as he finally entered one of the rooms.

The door closing behind them, Harry glanced around.

"Cozy," he said comfortably.

Draco yelped and jumped, startled. Harry smiled at his flabbergasted expression.

"Miss me?" Harry simpered.

Draco sneered at him, backing away once he noticed their close proximity.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he demanded. "Why are you _stalking_ me, vampire?"

Harry shrugged and moved around the dusty, disused classroom. Finding the old teachers desk Harry waved his hand to make the dust and dead insects disappear before sitting on it as though it were as comfortable as his favourite chair.

"Stalking you, I think." Harry smiled, showing Draco his sharp incisors.

Shuddering, Draco took a step back. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you left me alone – you know, the whole 'you're a vampire and likely to drink my blood' thing."

"Aww, Draco," Harry cooed. "You're not afraid of little old me, are you? You seemed to like my drinking your blood last time."

Clearing his throat, Draco did his best to seem unaffected. "Yeah, right. I don't care for your delusions, Potter. You drank my blood – and no matter which way you look at it, it was weird and just wrong. Please refrain from doing so again."

Harry let his eyes rove over Draco's form slowly, torturously. He didn't believe a word that came out of Draco's mouth, and Draco knew this.

Standing up, Harry walked over to Draco. Standing only inches away, Harry let his cold breath ghost over Draco's heated skin. Though he didn't need breath, Harry found it useful when laying down a claim.

"Is that so?" Harry whispered, his lips so close to Draco's that he gave the illusion of contact.

"Y-yes."

Harry hummed in his throat and pressed his body against Draco's, soaking in the warmth. Smirking, Harry pushed Draco roughly against the wall, which Draco had inadvertently backed himself against.

"Really?" Harry let his nose rest against Draco's neck, right next to the increasing pulse. "Because I don't believe you."

Draco gulped, trying to keep his body from betraying him. It was hard to ignore the feel of Harry against him – all sinew and muscle, cold without being freezing. Draco closed his eyes and tried to think of a way to avoid this.

"I think," Harry paused to taste the skin of Draco's neck, above his frantic pulse. "That you're a liar. What do you really want, Draco?"

Harry pressed soft kisses up Draco's neck, moving towards his jaw, across Draco's lips.

Draco tried to pull away, but Harry wouldn't let him.

"Have you thought about it, Draco? What it felt like when I tasted your blood? What it was to share yourself so intimately with me?"

Draco wanted to shake his head, deny everything, but Harry's hand had sneaked down his shirt and was toying with the last buttons. Draco could feel the coolness of Harry's skin even through the material of his shirt.

"Why do you deny it, Draco?" Harry whispered into his ear, catching the lobe between careful teeth. "Will you not accept that you like what I do to you? That you enjoy the sensations I invoke within your veins?"

Draco was gasping for breath, Harry's words swirling around his mind, contesting with the way he was kissing his neck, the feel of his skin.

With a last attempt, Draco shook his head, and Harry, frustrated, let his lips capture Draco's in a kiss that spoke of everything that went unsaid between them.

Unable to deny the kiss, Draco kissed back, tasting Harry and letting Harry taste him. It felt so forbidden, so dangerous to kiss Harry, but Draco also felt a sense of completeness. That this was what he was supposed to be doing.

Harry moaned and pressed their aching erections together, creating a friction Draco hadn't known he had been craving until he had it. Their tongues clashed heatedly, making their teeth clack together awkwardly, but neither of them cared because suddenly, they needed to be closer, to feel as much of the other as possible. Unable to stop himself, Harry broke from the kiss and once more found Draco's pulse in his neck.

Poising himself to sink his teeth into that heavenly flesh, complete a need that had risen in him with the kiss, Harry could almost taste that amazing blood already. In a moment of unrestrained desire he ground their hips together again, slipping his free hand under Draco's shirt to feel the skin beneath it.

Breathless, Draco watched as Harry's eyes shifted slightly. Already dark with lust, they now glinted with another kind of want. Draco watched the expression shift slightly as Harry's mind was taken over with bloodlust, and Draco's insides suddenly quivered with fear.

Harry moved to bite him and Draco panicked. Instinctively, Draco pushed Harry back. Caught off guard, Harry stumbled back into a desk and blinked up at Draco in confusion.

"What are you trying to do, Potter?" Draco shouted, still fearful, but unable to express himself in anything but anger. "Just who do you think you are? You can't just do this to me! Attack me and assault me on a whim, and expect for me to just let you do it like some docile sheep for the slaughter! I'm a person, Potter! And I won't suffer to be treated in this manner!"

Draco sneered, afraid of his own reactions and the look that was still in Harry's eyes.

"I_ hate_ you, Potter."

Scowling, Draco marched out of the classroom as the second period bell went, slamming the door behind him, leaving an angry, confused, and sexually frustrated Harry behind.

* * *

Severus Snape felt no small misgivings when it came to Harry Potter. The boy was a walking disaster waiting to happen, and Severus made sure that he was ready for anything that could happen as a result of the boy's foolish actions.

As it was, the boy had gone and turned himself into a vampire, so Severus felt duty-bound to brew a special potion that should keep the Bloodlust at bay. Not that the Gryffindor would appreciate it.

Sighing in defeat at the knowledge that his thoughts would not progress to anything of merit, Severus prepared himself mentally for his Seventh year Advanced Potions class as he stalked towards his classroom.

Descending upon the students in his usual fashion, Severus did a quick head count as he made his way to the desk. Satisfied that no one was skipping class or absent, he turned to face the class, his cloak billowing out around him.

"Today," he said in dull tones, just loud enough for the students to hear. "We will be brewing the cure for the Common Cold."

He glared around the room, trying to find any rebellious thoughts at the task.

"Who can tell me what is so dangerous about the process of this potion?"

Ignoring Granger's hand waving in the air, Snape waited for someone else to volunteer. When no one was forthcoming, he sighed.

"Very well, Miss Granger, your answer."

"The cure for the Common Cold is a complicated and highly dangerous potion to create because of the combination of dragon's scale powder, unicorn hair and a pre-mixed elixir known as Breathing Death. These three ingredients, if mixed incorrectly or added in wrong proportions cause symptoms not unlike to those of the Black Plague, death is instantaneous and horrible. But this death isn't true death, as you become something of a zombie. It causes a body to continue functioning – hence the name 'Breathing Death' because of the victim's continued breathing, but you are never the same as you were and essentially dead." Hermione took a breath.

Severus nodded slightly. "Correct,"

His impenetrable black gaze flitted once more over his students, taking in the slight emanations he could feel because of his Legilimency skills. Boredom, slight fear from a few students, disregard from his Slytherins. And he couldn't feel anything from Harry.

Students just didn't understand Potions anymore – it's subtleties and quirks, the slightest distinction that would mean death to the consumer. Severus suppressed the urge to sigh again and roll his eyes. His talents were wasted here, but what more can a man do?

"You will be working in pairs of my choosing." Severus sneered at the class's looks of horror. "And I must beseech you to take the greatest of care and precaution in your potion-making. It takes seven full cycles of the moon to create this potion, and it will make up a greater portion of your overall grade. Cooperate and there will be no casualties."

He could almost hear each student seethe. He smirked his most nasty smirk and waved his wand. Instructions appeared on the board.

"The partners are as thus…" Severus listed the partners from memory, taking care to note the pained expressions on the faces of his students as he did so. It was so fun to torture…

"Granger and Macmillan; Weasley and Nott…" and so it went until, "…Malfoy and Potter."

Two groans of mutual distaste rose from the partners, and Severus smirked for a last time before seating himself behind his desk.

"There will be no changing of partners, no complaining of given partners and that is my final word." Severus glanced at the time. "You may begin the base for the Elixir of Breathing Death."

As Potter walked past his desk to collect his ingredients, Severus spoke quietly.

"I'd like a word after class, Potter." Pausing briefly, Potter nodded his assent, and Severus took out a quill to mark some holiday homework he had collected from his Second Years before walking amongst the simmering cauldrons.

* * *

It was hot. Harry could feel the heat leaking through his clothes, like a poisonous gas that left nothing alive. It was choking, and it threatened to creep through his throat and infest his stomach, but Harry wasn't breathing, wasn't worried about the heat, or his own comfort.

Ash fell from the sky like rain, and the smell of death and torture was thick on the air.

"_Don't go, Harry. You don't want to see it. You don't need to see it."_ Severus's voice echoed emptily in Harry's mind, reminding him that he didn't have to be there.

"_But I do have to, Professor. This is my fight, my battle, my responsibility. I have to know."_

Harry blinked back tears, wondering at the hopelessness he felt. These people hadn't deserved what they had received. They had been innocents. Wasn't it his job to look after them? Wasn't Harry supposed to be a saviour?

Fighting back his rising rage, Harry let his eyes scour the fire-ravaged village. It was a terrible sight, and it made Harry nauseas and furious all at once.

How dare Voldemort do this? How could he kill so freely, so easily?

Harry kicked a nearby stack of debris. Why hadn't he come earlier? Why hadn't he tried to help when he could?

"_Don't risk your life, Harry. This isn't your time to die!"_

"_It isn't my time to die!? What about those people he's killing as we speak? What about them? Is it their time to die?"_

Harry's frustration, from hours ago during his conversation with Severus and now, because of his uselessness, threatened to boil Harry's blood. He couldn't lose control. He can't let himself turn into some hideous creature. But his ire still rose within him.

"_They are a sacrifice for the greater good! You need to think about the bigger picture! If you go running off into every situation he creates, you will die before you have a chance to kill him!"_

"_I don't care! It's my fault people are dying! Screw your 'greater good' I go by what's _right_! By what's _moral_! I can't let people die for me! If I don't do anything, their deaths will be because I _did not_ act!"_

As the homes and buildings of the people who, only hours ago, had lived and loved here burnt around him, Harry fell to his knees.

What good were his powers if he couldn't bring these people back to life, what good were they if they did nothing at all? What good was he, Harry, for not acting? What kind of hero does that make him?

Tears slid unheeded down his cheeks, and Harry finally let himself feel all he had repressed for so long.

He missed Ron and Hermione, their guidance and support. He missed Dumbledore's reassuring and safe presence. He missed Sirius, missed him more than he ever had. It seemed that everyone Harry loved and needed either died or lost faith in him. What did that mean? Why was Harry so unlucky, to not have anyone at all?

And then there was Draco. Harry knew that there was the potential for it to become so much more. Already Harry knew that he wanted Draco in his life. That he would crave his blood for as long as he lived, that Draco would mean the world to him if he would only let Harry do so.

A sob broke from Harry's throat and that evil presence in his mind echoed the despair with a burst of satisfaction. Harry growled, disturbed that it was there while his conscious defenses were up, while he wasn't prepared. His mind wasn't even completely safe anymore.

Voldemort would pay for this. No longer would Harry stand idly by and watch the slaughter of people that had nothing to do with the feud between Voldemort and himself. No longer would people die for that madman's crazy beliefs.


	8. VII

**A/N:**I'm so sorry I've left this so long. I guess I just wasn't inspired… But I can't say that updates will be any quicker, so if you don't mind, I'll ask you to just bear with me, here.

**Disclaimer:** See previous chapters…

* * *

Chapter Seven

Hermione rubbed her eyes, feeling fatigue creep over her and threaten sleep.

For days now she had been researching, but still she hadn't found anything that was useful.

She felt silly, hanging around the library in the first days of school. Even the Ravenclaws hadn't started their crazy studying agendas yet, still - Hermione was a girl on a mission. Though she wasn't talking to Harry, she could still help him.

There had to be an explanation for Harry's vampirism, and Hermione would find it.

A giant tomb lay open before her. She was on the last pages, and was determined to finish it before heading towards Gryffindor Tower and bed.

Turning the page, Hermione suppressed a sigh at the words written there.

'_And though vampires are some of the most acknowledged creatures to walk the world of night, they are elusive, and still there exist but a few texts on them. They remain a mystery, as does their past, present and future.'_

Hermione slammed the book shut, frustrated. No matter how thoroughly she scoured, she couldn't find anything of worth in the library. It was odd that the library should fail her, just when she wanted information the most. It was Nicholas Flamel all over again, and she couldn't help but feel she was overlooking something.

Sliding the book back into its shelf, Hermione shrugged her bag on her shoulder and left the library, feeling discontent.

Harry hadn't asked her to help him, but she had seen the need in his eyes. He needed to know what he was, how he had become this new self. It confused him more than he could attest to, and it made him fearful. Hermione had to help, seeing that look in his eyes.

This made Hermione feel guilty, of course. She was turning her back on him, even if she was looking up vampires on his behalf. Why did she side with Ron? She was sure Harry could have explained his actions had they given him a chance.

Her feet dragged as she climbed the stairs. She knew that she and Ron were being unreasonable. But betrayal, even if justified, was something not easily forgiven.

But what sort of friends were they not to forgive and forget?

* * *

Severus watched Harry carefully during his lesson that day.

The boy looked tired – if vampires ever looked tired. His eyes were slightly red and puffy, and Severus knew that what he had seen was haunting him. The boy was too emotional for his own good. He had warned the boy, practically told him that he was forbidden to go to that forsaken village, but warnings were never heeded when it came to Harry. Warnings won't stop him.

As the lesson progressed, and the potions started turning different shades of green, Severus saw that Draco had noticed the absence in Harry. Their barbs weren't being tossed back and forth, as usual. Harry was too silent for Draco, his partner for the duration of the potion, not to notice.

This piqued Severus's interest, however. Draco was showing more interest in Harry's behaviour than was customary.

Severus took to his rounds of the classroom, sneering down at Weasley's sad excuse for a potion on his way past.

"Useless," Severus muttered inaudibly, his eyes narrowed in distaste. How he hated seeing the art and practices of potion making being butchered by these incompetent children. It was practically against his being to be there, and yet…

Sighing, Severus turned, finally, to face Harry and Draco. But his presence went unnoticed by the pair. Both were too deep in their own thoughts, it seemed.

Draco's brows knitted together in a slight frown. He really didn't know what was with Harry. He was quiet, he wasn't rising to Draco's bait and he wasn't flirting with him, as he had been doing of late. Something had happened.

He had noticed the cold look in Harry's eyes, the tense set of his shoulders. Draco knew that Harry was spoiling for a fight, and he wasn't silly enough to provoke one. But he wished Harry weren't so hard to reach. Fury was blinding, and Draco found that he was being held back as if by an invisible brick wall.

A shadow loomed over the two boys, and Draco saw that Severus had stalked up to them without either noticing. Uncaring, Draco continued adding the ingredients to the potion, stirring with the rod when required.

Perhaps if there was nothing to bother them about, the bat would leave them to their thoughts in peace.

Severus hovered for a few moments, his intimidating presence looming over them as they ignored him. His eyes narrowed in thought, and he said nothing as he turned away with a flourish.

Draco almost smiled. Sometimes his Godfather was a tad predictable.

The professor gone, Draco let his attention focus once more on Harry. He seemed not to have noticed the professor had even stood over him, so deep in thought was he that nothing gained his focus.

Draco frowned. "Potter?" he murmured, soft enough that no one would hear but the Gryffindor.

"Potter!" he tried again, but got no reaction once more.

The bell rang, just as Draco was about to reach out and touch the boy on the shoulder. Sighing in irritation, Draco packed up his things and followed his out the door.

He ran to catch up with Potter, and only caught up with him once the Gryffindor had managed to lead them into a deserted corridor still within the dungeons.

"Potter, stop!" he called.

Finally, the vampire halted and turned to face Draco.

He raised an eyebrow in question. "What is it?"

Draco frowned, again, and catching his breath said, "What's up with you?"

Another eyebrow was raised. "Why do you care?"  
"I don't!" Draco said quickly, though he felt he was lying to himself. _Stick to the plan_, he chastised himself.

"It's just that – that you're distracting me. We need to concentrate on the potion, and I don't need you to be all depressing in the meanwhile."

Potter only smirked. "Is that so?"

Draco glared at him.

Potter closed the gap between them, and Draco felt the wall hit his back. What _was_ it with walls and being cornered?

"I think," Potter said softly, pushing his face closer to Draco. "That you're worried. About me."

Draco sneered. "Not likely."

All he got in reply was another smirk.

The coolness of the vampire was pressing against him again, and Draco hated the way he felt safe and contented with the sensations. He wanted more – his body wanted more – and that frightened the Slytherin almost as much as continuously being cornered like this.

"Stop it!" Draco demanded. He tried to push Potter away, but the Gryffindor held firm, pressing himself further against Draco.

"Stop what?" he asked innocently.

"Stop doing this to me!" it burst from his lips before Draco could stop the words from being said.

The vampire paused, and looked at thoughtfully at the blonde for a long moment.

"Doing what to you?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Draco scowled, but was also both pleased and disappointed that he had backed off slightly.

"Doing what, Draco?" Potter insisted, a new emotion in his eyes that Draco couldn't interpret.

Draco looked away, but answered the question, "Making me feel this way. Making me worry. Making me want to know what's happening to you, to us."

Closing his eyes, Draco bit his lip, unaware of the eyes that followed his slightest movement.

"Just…stop it. Please." Draco hated the vulnerability in his voice. Hated it more than he could say, and he hated it all the more because it was Potter – _Potter_ – who was hearing it, Potter who was the reason behind the waver in his voice, the words themselves.

_So much for the plan._

There was silence as Draco continued to fume over his weakness, and Potter contemplated the meaning of what had been said. It was not an awkward silence, but neither was it a comfortable one.

Finally, Potter broke it. "I see."

Draco glared. That was all he had to say? Draco lay his weaknesses to light, and all the vampire could say in return was 'I see.'!?

Draco snarled and pushed him away as hard as he could.

"I can't sand you!" Draco cried. "All this crap you put me through, branding me and laying a _claim_! What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Potter's eyes darkened, and Draco wondered if he had been right to last out in anger.

But before anything could happen, a voice called out to them from the end of the corridor.

"Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy," Severus stepped forward, calling their attention away from each other. "Do you not have better places to be, as apposed to haunting empty corridors together?"

Draco scowled, and without any comment, stalked out of the corridor and down to the Slytherin Common Rooms.

Harry turned to the Professor, and smirked. Snape just gave him a blank gaze n return.

"I sincerely hope you know what you're doing, Potter." Snape commented after a moment.

Harry shrugged, and said, "I never know what I'm doing, Professor. I just go with the flow."

The look Snape gave him was bleak. Then he sighed, as if he were too old for such foolishness.

"Very well. I wish to speak to you."

Harry lost his easy-going demeanor, and sighed, too.

"As you wish."

Once they reached the Potions classroom (there were no classes scheduled) and had closed the door, Snape got right to the point.

"You shouldn't have gone."

Harry sat himself at the front desk, and put his feet up. "You knew I'd do it anyway."

Snape pinched his nose and shook his head. "You can't compromise your safety like that. I cannot condone such courses of action."

"I never asked for your permission." Harry watched the shadows behind Snape's desk swirl and eddy as the air currents in the room shifted.

"I know you're old enough to make your own decisions, but you must think of others, and what would happen should the Dark Lord learn of your…condition."

"And if he knows already?" Harry asked.

Snape looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"  
Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure. I was just wondering what it would mean, should Voldemort know."

Creasing his brow, Snape sat down behind his desk.

"I cannot be certain of the Dark Lord's reaction to such knowledge. But there are several students in the school who are loyal to the Dark Lord, and are willing to follow his commands, should he think of ways to weaken you."

Harry closed his eyes, and winced to think of the damage that could be done while he was still so young a vampire. He wasn't strong enough to fight off several attempts at weakening his power.

"And once you were weak enough…the Dark Lord would deem it time for a large scale attack."

Harry faught down his ire. Why did all of this have to happen? Becoming this creature was a curse, another way for Voldemort to overcome him and take over the world. Why was that always the case? When would he catch a break?

"Great." Harry said sarcastically.

Snape sighed. "There is also the worry of your interaction with Draco."

Harry opened his eyes and sat up straight, looking Snape in the eyes. What did he mean?

"He is a distraction to you, and you cannot afford to let your focus shift from the trials ahead of you. You must learn to control your new self. You cannot do this and court Draco at the same time."

"A distraction?" Harry said lowly, feeling his anger bubble just under the surface. "He is nothing of the sort."

In fact, Harry wasn't sure just what Draco was to him yet. All he knew was that everything felt right in the world whenever he was with him. The Slytherin reminded him of something Harry couldn't name, but was afraid he was losing. He needed the blonde as he needed the darkness.

Cutting Draco out of his life was out of the question.

"My business with him is my own. I will thank you not to trouble yourself with it."

Snape gave Harry a sharp look. "And what will we do when you're weakened, vulnerable, because you allowed yourself to get caught up with him? What does that mean for the Dark Lord, for Draco, when you're dead?"

Harry bared his teeth at the Professor. "It means nothing, because I will not be weakened, nor made vulnerable because of it!"

Unable to keep his rage in check any longer, Harry stood up and stormed from the room, leaving behind a very tired man who only longed for an end.

"I hope that is the case, Harry."


	9. VIII

**A/N:** Another chappie… yay! Almost on double digits. –Excitement; High fives, people!-

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter & Co., nor do I even hold any such pretense of such a thing… I just torture them a little. But they're not real, so it's 'k.

* * *

Chapter Eight

Harry shifted his footing on the tree branch, moving so that he could see the moon better through the foliage.

He closed his eyes and sighed happily as the soft breeze whispered consolingly in his ear as it passed, and the light of the moon bathed his skin in its ethereal glow. The night was dark in the Forbidden Forest, and the darkness had a way of making him feel more content and at ease, something that the sun could never achieve.

But, the torrent of thoughts and emotion he carried everywhere like baggage refused to abate and Harry fought back his always-present ire.

He had so much hate in him, and it frightened him even more than the thought of Voldemort taking advantage of his state. While Voldemort was an always constant fear and threat that hummed with life in Harry's hollow chest, Harry's hate was something that could not be fought with physically. It was not an obstacle that was mortal, not something that could be killed.

Harry was the only one who could overcome it, because it was his burden. However, it was not easily done, and Harry found himself unable to let go of his hate. How could he? He never had a choice; he was always thrust into things he didn't want to experience. He didn't want to be the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived. He never asked to be a vampire – seemingly for no reason – and he sure as hell never desired to have the great, crushing weight of the world's and his own expectations on his shoulders.

He was only seventeen, a boy on the cusp of manhood, and yet he was a household name, someone everyone looked up to, and idolised in many instances. How was he supposed to take that on a personal level?

He couldn't, and it was slowly eating away at him, and he feared that, too - feared it almost as much as he hated it.

For without him, what chance did anyone have? Without him the world would crumble, lose its confidence. Sure, there'd be a last resistance that would fall to Voldemort, but after that… there'd be a tyranny, and in death he'd be blamed.

Harry shook his head, and tilted his head backwards. An owl hooted not too far away, and small creatures scuttled around in the undergrowth. The leaves of the trees created a soothing rustle as the breeze sifted through them, and Harry allowed himself to be lulled by the sounds.

He could hear everything happening around him, smell the rich, fertile forest and sense the movements around him, even in his half-slumbering state.

It was empowering, these new senses. It left him in awe of the majesty that surrounded him every day, made him appreciative of the relative stillness that existed at night, when all the havoc and rush of the day was over. During the day he longed for this, and during the night when he felt it, he wished it would last forever.

Harry could feel his wings, restless beneath his skin, eager to lift him into the sky and fly, help him forget everything that weighed him down day by day. But he didn't want to let the moment end. He could fly tomorrow.

For now, while he had this peace, he had to embrace it and let it enter him, calm him, for he sensed that tomorrow would not be a happy day.

* * *

The day seemed heavier, more tangible than usual. Draco frowned, feeling the magic sizzle in the air, sending nervous shivers up his spine. He didn't like it, and he wondered what it meant.

His feet carried him to class loyally, though he was detached from everything around him. It was Harry that was on his mind. After all, when was it not Harry these days?

Draco could feel the tension rolling off the boy whenever he was around him, and Draco worried to think what it meant, and if he was connected to the weird magical energy hovering over the castle.

But if it did, Harry showed no outward appearance of an inner struggle. Draco had been observing him in every class they shared, and the Gryffindor continued to keep up a calm, controlled façade. Draco was impressed by this obvious Slytherin display of control, but that only meant that the storm was building up pressure beneath the surface.

"Mr. Potter," Draco looked up at Harry as he was addressed by the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor (some foreign man who had transferred here for a year – Draco couldn't recall his name) and observed the odd set of his jaw. What was it about the man that made Harry so tense?

"Could you list for the class the more obvious qualities a natural-turned vampire possesses?"

Draco furrowed his brows. It seemed too far-fetched for the class to be studying vampirism so suddenly, and for the professor to be picking on Harry more than any other student in the class. Did the man know something about Harry's… state?

_No_, Draco thought. He couldn't know something. It was too unlikely, wasn't it?

Draco watched as Harry's jaw set even more, and he could almost hear his teeth grinding together in anger.

"Natural-turned vampires can keep their Blood-Thirst under control in almost all situations. It is the humans who are turned that cannot control their Thirst, and they make up the majority of the statistics when it comes to the deaths caused by vampires. Turned vampires do not have wings, as natural-turned ones do. However, these are almost always kept hidden. A natural-turned vampire usually avoids sunlight, though not because they have a deathly reaction to it.

"They do not eat, for they have no need to. They have sharp incisors that elongate when they feast, but otherwise remain surreptitious."

Harry stopped here, and glared at the professor. It almost looked like a challenge.

The professor only smiled benignly, however mockingly it looked, but he seemed to back down from Harry's hostility.

"Very good, Mr. Potter." He said, but there was a mechanical note behind his words. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

As the teacher moved on to begin talking about the aspects of a vampire's wings, Draco watched as Harry continued to glare at the professor. Harry knew something about him, or at least suspected something about him, and it was nothing good. Draco, for reasons beyond his wish to acknowledge, decided to be wary of the man, lest Harry end up in the right.

* * *

As the day wore on, Draco observed Harry more and more, until Harry was the only thing that occupied his thoughts at all.

Draco couldn't explain it, couldn't understand why Harry was present so often in his mind and dreams of late, but it frightened him almost as much as Harry's behaviour did.

And yet, he still watched and wondered. Harry kept rubbing at his temples, and every time there was an exclamation or commotion in the hallways and during class, he winced, though no one but Draco appeared to noticed this.

It made Draco wonder what was happening in the raven-haired teen's mind, what he was experiencing if he was feeling such heights of discomfort. Was it the noise that affected him? Perhaps it was something more.

But one thing was for sure, and that was that the more it happened, the darker Harry seemed to become. Ever since his return to school, Draco had noticed that Harry looked, more and more increasingly of late, as though he were shrouded in darkness, or, at least, a darker 'aura' of sorts.

Harry was still a new vampire, he couldn't be accustomed to his new powers yet, and Draco thought that maybe all the people he was surrounded by every day stressed Harry out more than the amount of school work and his classes.

He didn't even say anything when Draco provoked him in Potions class, it was like the other day when Draco had been unable to even get Harry to look at him.

Draco walked slowly towards the Great Hall, students passing him quickly, eager for their supper. The library had been rather full in the last hour or so, and Draco wanted a few minutes of silence for himself. Everyone else had already passed him, and he lingered to enjoy the empty sound of the corridor, the light tap of his shoes the solitary sound bouncing off the walls.

But it seemed that it was not to be, for as Draco rounded the corner he saw that an irate Harry faced an equally irate Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in what seemed an aggressive conversation. This thought was only confirmed as Harry backed the professor against the wall, taking - what Draco could only assume was - a life-threatening hold on his throat.

As Draco got closer to the pair, the only people in the deserted corridor other than himself, Draco heard the last of the angry words that passed between them. He panicked, and started running towards them, wondering what he could possibly do to alleviate the situation.

* * *

"I want to know what you're up to!" Harry said forcefully, setting his stance.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Potter." The professor said adamantly, his brown eyes set and icy.

Harry was having none of it. "I know who you're working for, and I know your intentions aren't belligerent at the moment, but you're plotting something, and I _will _find out what."

The professor sneered. "I'd like to see you try." He crossed his arms, and gave Harry a confident stare.

Harry growled, taking an aggressive step closer. His eyes were flashing behind the fake glasses he wore around the castle's inhabitants, and his mouth was a harsh and unforgiving line. He wasn't about to let this slippery man out of his clutches.

Narrowing his eyes to slits of cold fury, Harry allowed more of his rage flow into his voice, setting a clearer warning.

"Now,_ Professor_," he purred. "Don't play coy with me. You and I both know you're not who you say you are. Believe me, if you think your little act ever fooled me, you're a bigger moron than I've given you credit for.

"Just know this, I'm watching you -_ Professor_. I know what you're thinking and feeling, and I'll know when you're going to make a move – any move. Don't fool yourself into thinking that you are a step ahead of me, because you aren't.

"And do not think to put me in the same predicament as you did today. If you do, I will have to create consequences, and your little plot will be foiled all that much sooner with your corpse."

The professor's expression flickered, his fear showing for a brief moment before he picked up his resolve and bore down on Harry again.

"I'm not afraid of you, Potter." He leered, lifting his chin the way any pureblood would when faced with potential death threats. "And your threats do not scare me."

Harry shrugged easily, easing his bearing a little. "That is your mistake, and it only makes your humiliation all the sweeter at the end."

The professor did not like Harry's words, and advanced on him furiously. Harry stood his ground, staring at the man apathetically.

"You little _brat_!" he snarled, invading Harry's space. "I cannot wait until I see you dead. Precious, perfect Potter, destined to save the world… but that won't happen, not if I can help it. You should have died, just like your bastard father and bitch Mudblood mother did."

Something snapped in Harry at the slight to his parents. He had been having a_very_ bad day – from the constant headache, to the emotions and streams of thought he couldn't block from his mind, Harry would have lashed out at a perfectly innocent bystander if they had been the one to aggravate him to this level. But it had been the professor, and Harry almost willingly let his anger overtake his better judgment.

He felt his fangs elongate as his instincts started to take over his consciousness.

He shoved the professor hard, and the man flinched as his back hit the brick wall. But Harry did not ease up, he took the man's throat in his hand – now clawed – and pressed on his windpipe in a choking grasp.

"_You will not insult my parents_." He hissed, baring his fangs at the now visibly frightened face of the professor. Already he could feel the rage boiling in his veins turn into a demand for the professor's blood, and his control over the Blood-Thirst slipped.

His emerald eyes turned a deeper shade of green, and Harry's vampire sought the sound and feel of blood pumping beneath the surface of the professor's skin. He wanted to taste… to drink…

So entranced was he in the sound and scent of the professor's blood, Harry didn't sense, nor hear, the running footsteps approaching him.


	10. IX

**A/N:** A little short, I know… But there wasn't much else to say in this chapter, really…

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em. I don't pretend to own 'em. And I shall now go sulk in that corner…

* * *

Chapter Nine

Draco hesitated for a second – was it a second too long? – before reaching out and placing his pale hand on top of Harry's, covering the one that was clutching the professor's throat in a vice-like grip.

"Harry," Draco whispered, afraid of the dark glaze in the boy's eyes. He tried to find Harry in those eyes, but only saw something that was raw and animalistic. Something that was frightening and alluring at the same time. Not the Harry he knew.

Those eyes tore away from the professor and looked at him with a confused stare. Harry stared at him – Harry's _vampire_ stared at him – for long seconds before recognition registered.

His lips opened to say something, but Draco quickly spoke while he had Harry's attention, "Harry, please stop."

Draco hated pleading. He never pleaded, never asked for anything, he simply_demanded_. But for Harry, he had to. Harry wasn't Harry at the moment, that much was obvious.

The professor was wide-eyed and didn't seem to know what to do. He spluttered and strove for breath, scraping his nails on the back of Harry's hands, all in vain to try and make him stop. But Harry didn't even notice. He wasn't looking at the professor any longer, though his grip remained just as excruciatingly firm.

As the professor's face turned a worrying shade of red-purple, Draco clung to Harry tighter.

"Harry, you have to let him go." He implored, wondering why he was bothering at all. He didn't even like the professor… But something told him that when Harry came back to himself, he wouldn't take the death of the professor by his hands in this condition well, no matter his suspicions of the man.

Harry's brows knitted, as though puzzled. Draco didn't blink, didn't move. He only pleaded with his eyes.

"Please, Harry. You can't do this, not now." Draco slowly moved his free hand towards Harry, and touched his cheek softly. "Not now. You can't do this now."

Harry seemed to be working something out in his mind, and though he loosened his hold on the professor slightly, he didn't let go, nor did his eyes return to normal.

"Later?" the word was uttered in a hoarse whisper, somehow deeper, somewhat darker than Harry's usual tone of voice. Draco shivered, but kept his eyes steady, unblinking.

"Yes. Later, Harry. Not now."

Seemingly satisfied, Harry nodded and let the professor go with a glare. He bared his teeth, and the professor stood frozen still, unable to move for his overpowering fear.

"Leave now, professor." Draco snarled. "And I think it would be wise not to speak of this incident to anyone."

Without a word, and looking back only fleetingly as he fled the corridor, the professor left the two alone. A blood thirsty vampire and an unprotected student. Alone.

Draco watched Harry with a concerned stare, noting that the dark eyes were suddenly and intensely focused on him alone.

"H-Harry?" Draco stuttered.

He was pushed against the wall, much like the professor had been, except this was far from threatening.

Harry's eyes were hypnotising, making him forget his tension. The feel of the cool skin was soothing to his own heated flesh, and Draco closed his eyes as Harry pressed himself closer.

The Gryffindor buried his nose in Draco's neck, and Draco could almost feel Harry scenting out the blood that rushed beneath his skin's surface. Oddly, he did not mind. A happy fog had encased his mind, his thoughts, and he thought that maybe it would feel good if Harry were to… to drink from him.

He tilted his neck to the side, inviting Harry to drink. Draco felt the vampire shudder in anticipation, and the soothing coolness that was being pressed against him suddenly felt more real, more satisfying, and he wanted more.

Then those sharp fangs were piercing his skin, and Draco's breath hitched as he felt a rushing sensation through his body. It was heavenly, perfect, this feeling of union and mutual satisfaction… and yet, it wasn't enough.

Harry moaned against Draco's neck, and he arched in response. They were pressing closer together, closer and closer, feeling each other's need and want. Harry shifted his hips, grabbing hold of Draco at the same time and maneuvering them so that Harry held Draco's weight braced against the wall. Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's waist, and they both bucked their hips at the same time, creating a delicious friction between their throbbing erections through the layers of clothes.

As Harry finally drank his fill, he swiped his tongue over the wound once, before giving Draco a fevered and lustful kiss, transferring the last remnants of the taste of blood as their tongues swept past each other in their kiss.

They kissed as for as long as Draco could hold his breath, keeping up the quick, needy thrusts of their hips until the stimulation reached its peak, and they reached their climax.

Breathing deeply, Draco rested his forehead on Harry's shoulder and just drifted languidly through his orgasmic haze. Harry lazily lapped at the last drops of congealing blood from Draco's wound, sending small shocks through the blonde's still sensitive nerves.

Once consciousness returned, Harry smiled to himself just as Draco pushed himself from his arms.

"Shit," Draco cursed himself. He took another step back, shaking his head. Harry only smiled wider, and Draco bemusedly noted that his eyes were back to their usual emerald green.

"My, Draco…" Harry murmured, taking a step closer. "I didn't know you cared so."

Draco shook his head again, and cast a frantic look around their surroundings. No one was there, nothing to distract him, not that he really expected there to be.

"I – I didn't… I was just-"

Harry took another step forwards, and wiped the slightly damp fringe back from Draco's wide grey eyes. "No matter, Draco… It would have happened eventually. Thank you."

Harry waved his hand almost absently, casting a cleaning charm on the two of them, and took an unhurried step backwards.

"Until next time."

Draco was left staring at the wall in self-loathing and puzzlement.

* * *

Outside the castle, a cloaked individual ran across the grounds, and into the Forbidden Forest where the anti-Apparition wards ended. He turned once, and disappeared with a 'crack!' that was lost amongst the myriad of sounds emitting from the castle's Great Hall.

If anyone had been watching the cloaked man, they would have shivered in disgust to see the sinister smile that coated his oily lips.


	11. X

**A/N:** Soz for the wait… again… '

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing… I see nothing, I speak nothing, I… Well, you should get it by now.

Chapter Ten

Harry's lips curled into a snarl.

The professor continued the lesson, feigning ignorance of Harry's animosity. But Harry knew that the professor was aware, watching and conniving against him. Harry could smell it in the air, and it was a stench Harry likened to spoilt, rotting meat.

Something bad was festering, waiting for its moment to be unleashed.

And Harry couldn't wait.

Lately, Harry had found his life rather monotonous. He craved something else, something he hadn't craved before. It was a yearning he was unused to. Unlike his need and lust for blood, but also alike. It demanded that he take action, throw caution into the wind, and yet… Harry was content to let things take time, in spite of his impatience. He wanted things to move quickly, happen now and satiate his need. But he was willing to simply let events unfold, wait as long as it took.

It confused Harry, himself, but he did not question what his mind was telling him, what his instincts were assuring him of.

So Harry would sit, and watch, and wait. Things had a way of doing just what you wanted them to, if you were patient enough.

His eyes skated past the professor and rested on Draco. The blonde was watching the professor with a curious expression that intrigued Harry. The grey eyes were clouded in thought – no doubt far from anything to do with the lesson's topic – and Harry wanted to know what was happening in that cunning Slytherin brain of his.

However, Harry's musings were cut short by the professor himself.

"Mr. Potter!" He barked, and Harry unhurriedly let his attention shift back to the present. "Perhaps you could inform the class of the symptoms relating to a vampire's shift of power during the New Moon?"

Harry cocked his head to the side, narrowing his gaze on the professor. What a bold question, Harry reflected in curiosity. Then he smirked, and decided he'd like to play the game.

"Certainly, Professor D." Harry said, purposefully impertinent. He told the class about the heightened blood lust, the almost unbearable need to find a mate, of sorts. Vampires do not mate as other Creatures do. Harry explained that they were a race that took one lover and one lover only, for the rest of eternity, but that this choice was made of their own will and the will of their chosen lover, not through any divining fates, or nature, by any means.

It was at this point in Harry's monologue that he flashed a grin back at Draco, and winked. The blonde flushed a pretty pink, but Harry was already launching himself back into his speech, to finish with a grand finale.

"And, of course, their powers magnify tenfold during the dark moon. It is usually when past injustices, as perceived by the vampire, that have not been avenged, are brought to the forefront, and they seek revenge in the most torturous way possible. Enemies beware."

Harry had to force himself not to laugh at the Professor's expression.

* * *

Harry made his way languidly down the hallway, listening vaguely to the echoes of the corridors as he ruminated on the day's Defence class. It amused him to mess with the man who dared to enter the castle and spy for the Dark Lord right where Harry could see – and to stay there, even when Harry threatened him directly. The man was either very confident or very stupid.

As Harry passed the dusty portrait of a woman in a very large dress with entirely too many ruffles, he pondered whether or not he had said too much in his explanation of vampire transformations during the Darkmoon.

Harry had read every text in the Hogwarts library on vampires in the first week of school, Merlin only knew he had enough time, and he therefore knew what people had already deduced about vampires, and what they were as yet still ignorant about. He did not want to spoil all his secrets, after all.

So it had come as a surprise, even to himself, that he would reveal a vampire's need for revenge during the New Moon. It had just been so very much fun to torment the professor, that Harry hadn't been able to keep himself in check.

Of course, it was a minor secret, really. And some things that were believed to be true were exaggerations. The powers increasing tenfold, for example. During any circumstances, vampires were always the stronger being to any human by double, and the New Moon did enhance this strength, though only by another threefold, not ten. Harry wasn't about to set that straight, however. There was no harm in it, as far as he could see…

A memory pushed against Harry's consciousness, and he let the silky tendril break into his thoughts.

Harry could still feel his feet touching the stone of Hogwart's floor, and he could sense the real world around his body, but it was as though a new vision had washed over him. He was still in the same corridor, in Hogwarts Castle, but it was in a different time. The walls were not mouldy and damp, and the paintings were not dusty and neglected as in the present, and most importantly of all, the moon was in a different phase. The night was the black of the New Moon.

Harry looked on in interest as a man cloaked in a robe, almost of darkness, hurried down the hallway. Leaving his body behind, Harry followed him in his spirit form. Tracking the route and implanting it into his memory, Harry watched as they walked through the myriad of hallways and corridors. Harry was made more and more increasingly curious as the man he followed as hastened more, emanating a sense of trepidation and anxiety, mixed with an acute fear that Harry could not ignore.

It gave Harry an invigorated rush of delight for some reason, but he did not change his pace in following the stranger.

Finally, the man stopped. He glanced around him for a second or two, before looking back at the wall in front of which he stood.

Harry nearly lost his spirit form back to his body when he heard the sibilant hissing of Parseltongue.

Hurrying after the man as a secret stone doorway was revealed, Harry stared at the face that was revealed at the dropping of the hood of his cloak. It was him. Salazar Slytherin.

Harry tried not to gape, but it was a close thing. Now curious beyond belief, Harry took in the secret room they had entered. Or rather, the secret passageway.

Slytherin inhaled a deep breath, before descending the steps that sunk into the damp floor.

They led to hidden exit that led out of the castle. Harry looked at it for long moments, admiring the perfect way in which the break in the brickwork was done, so as to be hidden from every angle, and marvelled that it would be unnoticed by the Marauders when they would scour the place. But his attention was diverted back to the still-hastening figure of Slytherin as he rushed across what Harry identified as the strip of grass closest to the Forbidden Forest, the only section of the forest that came even part-way close to the castle.

Harry followed him, but he could feel the memory waning, the emotions fading until Harry could no longer sense their influence. Furrowing his brows, Harry followed Slytherin into the Forest as far as he could.

Just as Harry was accepting that he'd have to return back to his body, Slytherin stopped, turning around as fast as a branch snapping back into place. His wand was in hand, and he breathed deeply.

A shape had shown itself in a shadow, and it seemed to shimmer in and out of existence on the precipice of the gloomy shadows between the trees. A foot appeared as the figure stepped forward into proper sight, and Harry felt an electric shock run down his spine at the vision of another vampire.

Slytherin seemed to be expecting him, however, and merely tightened his hold on his wand. The vampire leered at him, fangs glinting mercilessly as his lip curled. His eyes glittered with a cruel malice, the kind of malice that was determined and vengeful and unheeding.

"At last," he whispered, his voice like shards of ice that would pierce a weak heart with fear. "Salazar."

Slytherin narrowed his eyes, but held his ground.

"We both knew this day would come, my friend. It is my sad luck."

The vampire scoffed, taking a step forward in dominance. "Yes, indeed. It was inevitable that I would get my revenge, I had just hoped you would present me with a worthy chase. What do you say? I'll give you a five minute lead,"

Slytherin narrowed his eyes in anger, irritated by the vampire's mockery.

"I am sorry that I am unworthy game, my old friend, but I wish for my death to be more dignified than that of a cowardly victim."

Slytherin's eyes were dulled with sorrow, and Harry wondered what had happened between these two people who seemed to have once been good friends. But the vampire was there for justice, so whatever had passed between them had slighted the vampire to seek his revenge.

The vampire sighed, as though very put out. But the cruel glint of his eyes betrayed his act. "I suppose I must do as I will, then."

Quicker than the eye could track, he was pinning Slytherin to the leaf-littered ground. His fangs were pressed close to the clammy skin of Slytherin's neck, but the Hogwarts Founder showed no more forward sign of fear or weakness than that.

"Any last words?" The vampire asked, scraping his teeth across the flesh he would sink his fangs into. Harry held his breath.

"I'm sorry it came to this."

The vampire chuckled, and Harry dared not blink. The chuckle was cut off, suddenly, as Slytherin whispered an incantation. Thick, inconsistent blood dripped onto Slytherin's robes as he dropped his wand to the earthy ground.

Shocked, Harry saw that Slytherin had cut deep into the vampire's chest, where the heart should be, and where Harry could see that there was a gaping recess, devoid of any organ. The thick blood slithered out of the wound, as though unwilling to leave the body.

Uncomprehending, the vampire stared at Slytherin in horror and awe.

"What have you done?" he whispered, what little pallor had been in his face draining along with his immortal life.

Slytherin looked unaccountably aggrieved. "'While the vampire it as its most strong during the New Moon, so is it at its most vulnerable.'"

The vampire snarled, angered. Looking feral and beyond comprehensible speech, he made a lunge at Slytherin with the last of his strength, and buried his fangs deep within the Founder's throat.

The dying breaths of the two men were the last things Harry registered as he was forced back into his own body, shaking and shocked to his very core by what he had seen.


	12. XI

**A/N:** I want to thank my friend **silvershadowwolf** for helpin' me when I got stuck here!

**Disclaimer:** I own it not. I therefore don't claim any rights, except the right for having fun! XD

* * *

Chapter 11

Draco observed a subtle change in Harry that surprised him. Harry seemed to become more and more reclusive than usual, increasingly preoccupied with thoughts that must have troubled him greatly.

Despite himself, Draco was worried. The month wore on, and still Harry hadn't changed these new mannerisms. He cut himself off from everyone around him even more, never speaking unless spoken to.

Draco didn't understand it, but then again, he couldn't delude himself enough to believe that he understood Harry at all.

The new day had dawned dark and dreary, a stark contrast to the day before, which had been sunny, if cold. But it had held nothing of the gloom this day contained, and Draco shivered as the thrill of a premonition slithered down his spine.

It was a Friday, and lessons passed quickly, the classes but moments in time that seemed to Draco irrelevant all of a sudden. Draco knew that study was important for his future; he understood the worth of knowledge and its relationship to power, to authority and wealth. Despite this, Draco had found himself less and less preoccupied with the more studious pursuits he should pursue in place of a deep contemplation that seemed infinitely more important.

His dragonhide boots echoed his footsteps around the corridor as he walked; his bag slung over one shoulder, head bowed slightly as if the weight of his thoughts pulled him inexorably down.

He didn't notice how dark the corridor had become.

What was it that he truly wanted? Draco asked himself. He did not care for his father's views, his beliefs. The Dark Lord's path was not his, though he carried the Mark, and would for the rest of his life. But being bound by magic was not the same as being bound by free will. Draco believed that the right course would lead him to his salvation. And he believed that the path lay with the errant vampire that so plagued his thoughts.

How could a vampire be the one to save him, and the rest of the world? Draco pondered. Despite the absurdity of the notion, Draco could not help but lay all his faith in it; he simply knew it to be fact.

This faith, this belief, was a turning point for him, but he would be lying to himself if he said that that was all, that there was nothing else about the Gryffindor that drew Draco to him.

Because for all Draco's anger, for all his bravado and fake bravery, he was firmly and irrevocably in the brunette's power. This fact only served to irk him further.

Being attracted to Harry Potter was the last thing Draco had ever considered. Having genuine _feelings_ for him was more than he could ever have comprehended.

The shadows fluttered, and Draco shivered, as though an icy breeze had flittered over his skin. But he was in a corridor with no windows, and he was wearing his warmest cloak. While the castle was drafty, and cold, the breeze had not felt right. No, there had been no natural breeze.

Creasing his brow, Draco turned around. But no one was there – not that he'd expected anyone. He had realised, belatedly, that he was surrounded by impenetrable darkness.

Annoyed for the interruption in his thought process, Draco hurried on his way a little faster, thinking that he could get through the bulk of his homework before dinner and leave the rest of his weekend free from work. But there was that breeze again.

"Who's there?" he demanded in his most haughty voice, hiding his anxiety with ease.

Not a breath stirred.

Dismissing his ridiculous fears, Draco moved to leave the immediate vicinity once more, but something held him back.

Unable to stop the odd instinct, Draco found himself walking towards the wall. Upon reaching the stone, he pressed his hands against it, as though sensing vibrations through the palms of his hands. But, Draco only moved along the wall, feeling like he had to find something.

His nimble fingers found all the cracks and crevices that marked the large stones, but nothing was forthcoming. Still, he was spurned on, and soon he was presented with a long fissure carved by human hands into the stone. Feeling triumph well within him, Draco moved his hand along the line, feeling every nook and cranny, and with a satisfied smirk, the secret door opened with the pull of a lever.

The deeper darkness of the passageway seemed to almost leak out of the opening, spilling into the corridor to merge with the shadows. A deep sense of disquiet settled over Draco, but he merely shifted his bag off of his shoulder. Taking out his wand, he cast Lumos.

Bathed in the magical light, Draco could now make out the doorway, but little else. Once more unable to deny his instinct, something that he would be very suspicious of had he been in any normal frame of mind, Draco ventured into the secret passageway.

It led him steeply upwards, and after fifteen minutes of working steadily up the slope, Draco thought that it might lead towards one of the towers at the top of the school.

Unconcerned, Draco kept his wand aloft, and let his mind drift free of thought.

The passage ended eventually, though, and Draco left the confined, dusty space with some relief. Draco was quite impressed with his own nerve. He hated small, compact spaces.

He looked around him, and was interested to note that he had come to the Astronomy Tower, on the complete opposite side of the school to where he had been previously.

The stars were shining through the clouds strongly, and tonight Draco was impressed with their beauty. The moon was obscured by the clouds yet, but Draco found that he didn't mind.

Extinguishing his wand, Draco crept closer to the large windows that opened up to invite the stars in. As he approached the ledge, however, he spied a foot dangling from the roof. Incensed, thinking some reckless student had climbed up on top of the roof in some silly prank, Draco climbed out to get a better look (not stopping to reflect on the sheer foolhardiness of what he was doing).

"Hey!" he called, finding hand holds as he climbed up further. "Just what do you think you're doing?!"

Green eyes glittered down at him, filled with the same surprise Draco felt. "Harry?"

"Draco?"

They stared at one another for a few long moments, before Draco began to question what he should do next. But any choice was taken from him as the rock he had been resting most of his weight on began to slip from its mortar.

Giving Harry one panicked look, Draco felt the stone loosen further, until it slipped entirely, and all grip he had was released.

He closed his eyes tightly, thinking that soon he would feel the earth crushing him to death. Air whooshed past his face, fluttering his hair about his face, forcing a chill through his bones.

He opened his eyes.

The ground stared back at him, but he wasn't plummeting to his death. Confused, Draco twisted his neck to see that Harry was holding him firmly by the waist. He had been so swift, so sudden in his movements that Draco hadn't even processed them until that moment.

Perceiving that Draco was okay, Harry moved them back to the Astronomy Tower roof. He touched down on the tiles gently, still holding tightly to Draco.

Harry's green eyes searched Draco's for any sign of distress, but Draco was too fascinated by the wings sprouting from Harry's shoulder blades to feel any fear.

"Draco?" the concern in Harry's voice broke through Draco's awe, and he snapped his attention back to Harry.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?" the question was one of those innocuous questions, asked everyday, so much so that they had lost all meaning. But, from Harry's lips, they were sincere, and they meant more than Draco could say.

"I'm fine," He replied, and he meant it.

Harry smiled. "Good."

His hand gently traced Draco's jaw, and caressed his lips with a loving touch. Draco let himself melt into the intimate gestures, loving the warm feeling they made, which spread through his body to warm his cold limbs.

"Harry?" Draco murmured. He wanted to talk with the brunette, to thank him. Draco wanted, now more than ever, to know all about Harry, however cliché that sounded.

"Yes, Draco?"

Draco smiled, loving the way his name rolled off of Harry's tongue so seductively, but he pushed those thoughts aside to focus.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Harry said absently, ready to fall into Draco's eyes.

"For saving me just now,"

Harry smiled, and it was a soft, loving smile that made you forget all about what Harry was and what he could do to you – this was a side of Harry that was private to everyone but those who he was most intimate with, those who he trusted above all else.

"You don't need to thank me," Harry whispered. Draco suddenly noticed just how close they were, less than an inch separating them. "For doing something that makes me so joyous."

He paused, and Draco waited silently for what Harry had to say, his breath uneven and his heartbeat erratic.

"Though I would never wish any harm to you, Draco, I relish any and all the time I am blessed with in your company, with you in my arms."

Draco blushed at his strongly convicted words, but they warmed his heart.

"I thank you anyway, Harry." Draco whispered, lightly brushing his fingers over Harry's brow.

"Then you are welcome." Harry pressed their foreheads together, revelling in their closeness, wishing it would last forever.

Then, both drawn by desire and the unavoidable need, their lips touched. The pure want, the need to touch and be touched was overwhelming. Draco's skin was suddenly on fire, his nerves begging for friction, for contact. He threaded his fingers through Harry's hair as he parted his lips for a deeper, more satisfying kiss.

Harry moaned into his mouth, bringing their bodies closer at the same time. He couldn't believe Draco was acting of his own accord, without coercion. He took in every sensation, every taste Draco's mouth had to offer, but he needed more, wanted more.

Still standing atop the Astronomy Tower, the boys scrambled to undo buttons, reveal skin and feel its pressure against their own. They couldn't explain their lust in so many words, but actions spoke more than words ever could.

* * *

Hermione flipped a page in her book about vampires (one of many), her expression changing with every new fact she uncovered. One moment she would express excitement, the next fascination, before disgust would take over.

She struggled with all the facts, but she knew that it was better to be informed than to live in ignorance.

Pulling her eyes momentarily from the text, she glanced over at Ron, who was scowling moodily out of the seventh year boys' dorm window.

"What _is_ the matter, Ron?" Hermione exploded in exasperation. He had been staring at the same spot with the same expression for nearly twenty minutes.

"Harry," he grunted after several moments. If possible, his frown deepened.

"Yes, what about him?" Hermione was wary of the subject. Ron was liable to explode these days, even at the mere mention of Harry's name.

The Gryffindor had not been spotted in the Common Room in weeks, and even less at meal times. In fact, the only time Hermione could recall seeing Harry was in class. To make matters worse, his absence seemed to anger Ron more, and he spent much of his time simmering is silent rage, still feeling betrayed and slighted.

They were all supposed to be _friends_, _best mates_. Not this… Acting like they did not even know each other.

Ron just didn't know what to do about it, and so he scowled.

Hermione sighed sadly, running her hand over the musky pages of her tome. It comforted her.

"What's with him and Draco?" Even apart, acting as though they were enemies, Ron still worried, and so wondered at the relationship that he could see had blossomed between his (ex) bestfriend and his so-called 'enemy'.

"I don't know, Ron." Hermione murmured, returning to her place in the tome. "That's something you'd have to ask them."

Ron's expression did not change, but his eyes flashed. He didn't like what he saw between the blonde and the brunette, and he planned to do something about it.

He just needed to wait for the perfect opportunity.

* * *

"Harry," Draco moaned, panting for breath. Some time ago they had moved from the roof of the Astronomy Tower to a private room that was not in use nearby. Draco didn't remember the move much, but he didn't think it mattered.

Harry's cool breath was on his fevered neck, sensing the blood beneath, smelling it, and the arousal that laced through the already blissful scent, to create a whole other enticement that had Harry feeling light-headed with lust.

Pressing the length of his body against Draco's, Harry tilted that pale neck beautifully, until Draco's head rested against the wall and his pulse lay exposed for Harry's leisure.

"Draco," Harry breathed out his name, caressed it with his tongue, made it sound so raw and lustful that Draco felt a shiver run up his spine.

"Harry… please…" Draco begged, without knowing what he was begging for. His pants were unbearably tight against his erection, and he could feel Harry's through the fabric. The heat from his body seemed almost as unbearable as his need for _more_, but he wanted Harry to make the first move.

Harry seemed to know what he needed, for his fangs had already elongated. Draco shuddered, but he was no longer afraid. He did not find it repulsive - in fact, he invited the sting, the piercing of his skin, the rush that sped through his body in a wave as his blood was sucked through the wound. He groaned, his knees going weak as Harry fed.

When he'd taken his fill, Harry licked the wound clean, repressing the shudders of delight and lust that pulsed through him along with Draco's blood. It was too much for thought.

Needing that final release, Harry pulled away from Draco slightly, ignoring the way the boy arched back for his touch with the removal of such close proximity. Without any trouble he undid both their zippers, freeing their erections so that they lightly touched each other.

Shuddering at the slight brush, Harry wrapped his hand around the both of them, and stroked them simultaneously, slowly at first, but quickly upping the pace when that proved unbearable.

"Gods," Draco gasped as Harry fingered the slit of his cock. Unable to prevent himself, he slipped one hand up Harry's neck, to grip the hair at the base of his neck, the other going down to replace Harry's hand with his own.

His firm grip was unwavering, and Harry quickly placed one hand on the wall to steady himself, the other gripping Draco's hip. The legs wrapped around him were tight, but Harry needed to hold onto the blonde's flesh, to feel their closeness even more.

Draco's hand worked fast, and already close to completion, they were soon crying out their orgasm as their pleasure peaked. Breathing harshly, the boys rested against each other and the wall, trying not to fall in a heap on the dusty floor.

"Fuck, Draco." Harry growled possessively, nipping at the still fresh wound on his neck, but playfully. He licked up the side of the Slytherin's neck, before placing a kiss on his lips.

Draco grinned, and took Harry's lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it before releasing it, placing a last kiss on those lips as he withdrew.

Harry play growled once more, kissing Draco until his breath was once more ragged, but pulled away before it could turn into anything more. "Naughty, Draco."

Draco only smirked, casting a quick cleaning spell before dropping his legs back to the ground. "You love it."

Smirking, and doing up the button on his trousers, Harry agreed. "You're right."

But once they had straightened themselves out, and their post-orgasmic haze had lifted, Harry's expression turned serious.

"How can you tell?" he asked Draco, watching as Draco did up the last buttons on his shirt (there were an awful lot of buttons).

Draco didn't look up, unaware of the change in atmosphere. "Tell what?"

Harry shrugged, trying to hide his insecurity. "What I'm feeling, my thoughts, and know just what to do to make me feel better?"

Finally, Draco looked up. He was confused. What had he done, really? Other than follow a mysterious tunnel that took him straight to Harry, and then thrown himself from the Astronomy Tower? Everything else was Harry, Draco just let Harry express himself through him.

By the look in Harry's eyes, he had read the look in Draco's own, and needed no response, but Draco made light of the situation anyway. "I'm just that spectacular, I guess."

Harry laughed, and Draco wished he would do it more often as he laughed, too.

But then the moment was interrupted as the sound of an explosion crashed through the air, making the foundations of the castle itself shake.


	13. XII

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it… What more can I say?

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Harry and Draco stood frozen. They looked at each other, suddenly fearful.

After a few long seconds, Draco spoke up. "What the _hell_ was that!?"

Harry only looked at him, helpless, and they both rushed over to the only window in the room. In the distance, hanging over Hogsmeade, was a cloud of dust. But, more striking, and more frightening, was the phantom of a large, green skull with the tongue of a snake grinning at them maliciously from the sky.

* * *

"Harry!" A voice called out as both Harry and Draco entered the Great Hall, pushing through the confused gaggle of scared students and exhausted teachers trying to keep order.

The looked up to see Severus making his way towards them.

"Harry!" he said again, reaching them finally. He saw Draco, and raised an eyebrow. "Draco."

Harry looked impatient. "What's happening?"

Severus returned his attention to the vampire. "As you would have noticed, there's been an explosion in Hogsmeade, moments before the Dark Mark appeared in the sky. We can only guess as to why this happened, I had no foreknowledge of an attack, and the Aurors have been sent for."

Harry looked troubled, and Draco tried to make sense of what could be happening.

"What are we to do?" Draco asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

Severus gave him an assessing glance, but only said, "We are to meet with the Headmistress."

The two students followed their professor up to the Headmistress's office, where the other Heads of House were just wrapping up a brief meeting.

"It is imperative that the students remain unharmed. Keep them out of the line of fire, should it come to war." McGonagall said with a weariness that was beyond her years.

Sprout, Flitwick and Sinistra (temporary Head of House for Gryffindor) nodded, and left to round up all the students from all four houses. There would be little sleep this night.

As soon as the door closed behind them, McGonagall gave Harry, Draco and Severus a grave look.

"I've had reports," She started, sinking into her chair. "It appears that this was an unwarranted attack, made by a few sadistic Death Eaters who decided to brave their Master's wrath and bring forward a plan he had been plotting the past few months."

Severus pursed his lips. "I'd thought as much. There have been rumours that the Dark Lord had a plan in the process of being set in motion, centering around Hogsmeade. This attack does not hold with His plans."

The Headmistress nodded. "And yet, the Aurors who are there now say that there are a great many Death Eaters, they fear they cannot hold them all in place before a force large enough arrives to reverse the damage. If some break through the barricade made by the Aurors, they will head for the school, I am sure."

Harry was scowling in rage, his eyes turning several shades too dark. Draco was worried, afraid that Harry may do something rash in his anger.

"Severus, I want you to prepare the castle. I shall put Hagrid on watch for anyone approaching the grounds. We can't be too careful."

Harry bared his teeth at the Headmistress. "We are to sit here and wait, while the people in Hogsmeade face certain death and torture at the hands of the Death Eaters?"

The witch, who had already looked wan and pale, now lost what little colour she had left at the dangerous look darkening Harry's face. But she tried her best to squash her panicked instincts.

"Mr. Potter, it is not a matter of leaving the residents of Hogsmeade to the mercy of the Death Eaters, but of protecting the students of this school from harm."

Harry glared, unable to see her logic. "But people are _dying_! There was an _explosion_, for pity's sake!" He snarled in her face, stalking closer.

Draco took a step towards him, ready to put a hand on his shoulder to calm him, but Severus held him back, shaking his head.

"There is nothing I can do in any capacity, Mr. Potter." McGonagall looked saddened, but resigned and prepared to do as she saw fit. "I suggest you leave it at that."

But that wasn't something Harry was ready to do.

"You may be willing to let innocent people die unfairly, Professor, but I am not." He growled, not two inches from the Headmistress's face. His eyes had darkened further, and his expression was wild, untamed and uncontrolled. He looked ready to fall into a deep rage, kill anyone and anything on sight.

"I'm going."

Before anyone could do anything, Harry had launched himself away from McGonagall, dropping out of the open window and out of sight.

Draco stared at the window, trying to process everything. Even now, he could see the dust still settling over Hogsmeade, the great green skull grinning at him, proclaiming His Mark, burning itself into his vision and memory.

Severus sighed, and gave the Headmistress a look. "I shall go after him."

She shook her head, but agreed, slumping in her chair. "I'll stay here, fortify the wards."

The potions professor nodded, and signalling for Draco to follow, left in a flourish of black robes. With an apologetic smile at McGonagall, Draco did as he was bid.

"Draco," Snape drew the blonde's attention without breaking his long stride. "I want you to remain in the castle."

"What?! No!" Draco pulled ahead of the Potions Master, halting his hasty progress. "I won't abandon Harry to his instincts. He needs me. I'm going with you."

Snape frowned. "Abandon Harry to his instincts? He is capable of handling himself, I'm sure."

Draco shook his head, glancing fearfully out the large window that was beside where the two stood.

"Not tonight he can't."

Beyond the shadows, the cloud of dust was just beginning to dissipate, and Draco could now make out the impenetrable darkness of the night sky. The stars were glimmering, bright and cheerful, undimmed because of the moon's absence.

* * *

Harry had reverted to a more animalistic self by the time Draco and Severus could find him. Bodies littered the streets, in between rubble and Aurors duelling the errant Death Eaters.

His lips were pulled back in a snarl, showing his fangs off aggressively, frightening more than one Death Eater into a gibbering mess, but Draco didn't pay attention to them. He was focused on Harry.

Harry's vampirism seemed so overpowering now, as compared to all other times, that it was no surprise vampires were feared and considered dangerous and untrustworthy. But, Draco could still see the Harry he knew now, and had come to – to _feel_ for – beneath that instinctual surface. The moon wasn't there to hinder Harry's powers, however, and Draco flinched as he watched Harry cut down a running Death Eater in seconds, spraying his blood in a high, graceful arc of crimson red.

It was gruesome, and yet breathtaking.

Draco swallowed, his hold on his wand tightening. Something was terribly, terribly wrong with this night. Not the slaughter, or the Dark Mark still floating above their heads in a sickly green parody of the tattoo that marred his skin, or even the way in which Harry had so easily lost his human self to his vampire – but… something Draco couldn't place. Something he was scared to realise.

He watched the stronger-than-usual Harry jump over large piles of rubble, crumbling buildings, only to tear down another Death Eater in a rain of agonised screams. Even from the distance Draco stood from Harry, he could see that his eyes had turned completely black.

Draco felt at a loss. He had convinced Severus to allow him to come, but there he stood, as useless as if he weren't there at all.

He watched Severus take down a masked Death Eater with a stunner, and grimaced as his neck fell awkwardly on top of a particularly large stone.

A spell hurtled at him, causing Draco to duck, just in time. The green flash flew over his shoulder, and bounced off a semi-erect wall.

Swearing, he stood back up, rattling off random spells as he moved for a safer spot, while still keeping Harry in his sight.

Then he saw something that made him halt in his tracks.

Harry was poised for attack, snarling and growling more than usual as he faced down his chosen victim: their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Suddenly chalk white and trembling, Draco inched closer, keeping himself pressed up against any and all cover he could find from the continued barrage of fire.

"I warned you, Professor," Draco heard Harry say, and he was shocked at the tone of voice Harry was using, how animalistic he sounded. "Don't cross a vampire during the New Moon, especially when the vampire has a grudge against you."

Draco shivered, goosebumps rising on his flesh in fear as Harry gave the professor a predatory smile.

"Big mistake, _Professor_."

The man quailed, his eyes wide with horror. Harry laughed in derision at the cowering man. There would be no mercy from this creature.

Draco watched, almost detached from himself, as Harry prowled closer, the professor frozen in place by Harry's hypnotising stare.

"Goodbye…" Harry said, nonchalant, almost absently. And with that final word, he dug his sharp claws into the professor's neck, and ripped out his throat in a shower of blood.

Draco was shocked at the sudden way everything was happening, just a few short hours ago he and Harry had been atop the Astronomy Tower, beneath the peaceful sky, clear and almost content in the way things were in their lives, and now Draco watched as the world seemed to crumble down about his ears. Harry was a rogue vampire, Severus lost in the sea of dead and dying, and the Dark Mark still floated above their heads, not for one moment letting anyone forget its presence.

A hush had fallen over those still fighting. There were muted moans of people injured, but mostly Draco could only hear the loud roar in his ears.

It was like someone had come up to Draco and punched him in the stomach. He stood frozen, trying to breathe, as a tall figure swathed in black robes appeared suddenly out of the far shadows. His red, snake-slitted eyes were glinting with hatred and a cruel, cold contempt as they swept over to where Harry crouched over the lifeless body of their professor. His almost skeletal hands caressed his bone-white wand in reverence, tasting with anticipation, with dreadful delight, the death of the one he had desired dead for years on the tip of his forked tongue.

The blood seemed to drain out of Draco's body. He couldn't think for fear of the Dark Lord, standing as real as anything else about that day was real, only a dozen or so paces away.

Harry's lip curled in response to the Dark Lord's presence, and his already feral eyes seemed to lose what little of himself they had left. Harry's low growl startled Draco from his stupor, and he took such a strong grip on his wand, he almost felt that if it were any tighter, he could snap it.

"My, my, if it isn't Harry Potter!" The Dark Lord simpered as he took his first steps closer to his foe. His eyes skittered from Harry, to his fallen professor, one of his Death Eaters, at his feet, before moving back to Harry.

Harry stood up to his fullest height, and Draco wanted so much to reach out and stop Harry from making a move, pull him away from the battle and keep him locked up and away from all harm forever. Draco wanted to laugh at the absurd nature of his thoughts, Harry could look after himself. Draco was just being irrational. But the need to protect wouldn't fade, and Draco noticed, with no small amount of surprise, that he was inching closer towards where Harry was taking a more offensive stance.

"Voldemort," Harry's voice was so low, to the point of being almost inhuman, that Draco felt his heart skip a beat. He could hear the animal, the vampire, within Harry in that voice, and Draco hoped everything didn't fall from beneath their feet like in some terrible nightmare.

From his position, Draco could see the shadows multiplying and gathering around Harry, could feel the power generate in a whirlwind around the vampire. It was awe inspiring, the way Harry stared down his enemy without any thought other than pure destruction, but it was as terrifying as it was beautiful.

"It appears that I find you a very different being, Harry Potter." The Dark Lord showed his first sign of wavering, but he kept steady. His last Death Eaters, the ones who hadn't rushed to forward his plans, were clustered in a semi-circle behind him, and they were like a great shadow, mimicking their Master's movements and malicious nature. There were seven of them, and Draco wondered at his sense of irony.

"Tell me, Harry Potter, how does it make you feel to know that the end is nigh?" Nostrils flaring, the Dark Lord's robes fell to rest about his feet as he halted his progress, stopping but a few arm spans from where Harry was watching his every movement. "Can you sense the shift? Harry Potter, are you ready?"

The Dark Lord's smile was vicious, making Draco want to flee, but one look at Harry's rigid back made him stay, reminded him of why he was there.

With a slight signal, the seven Death Eaters rushed forwards, drawing their previously concealed wands. They now formed a protective ring around their Lord, and with a further command from the Dark Lord, started firing spells.

Hastily erecting a shield to block an errant spell, Draco cast frantic eyes around the small clearing for a sign of Severus, but he was elsewhere, presumably fighting other Death Eaters.

Knowing that he was essentially on his own, Draco started casting spells, incapacitating Death Eaters, keeping Harry covered.

They soon noticed that there was someone else there, and finally seeing Draco standing just steps behind Harry, began aiming for him too.

While Draco cast every spell and hex he could think of, in the hopes of at least annoying the Death Eaters, Harry, who's state of mind prevented him from even thinking of using magic, let alone form the words of an incantation, hurled himself at the nearest Death Eater.

The man gave a sickening shriek of absolute pain, before it gurgled away into nothing, his blood draining from the mortal wound inflicted upon his throat.

Harry paid no mind to the spells as he picked the Death Eaters off one by one, none of them actually hitting him as he dodged each one with his superior speed. His only thought was of killing the ones who threatened him, his thoughts obscured by a haze of bloodlust and brutality.

The Dark Lord watched this with something akin to amusement, and Draco found his ire rise at his blatant disregard for the lives of his loyal followers. It was about time to knock that snake down a few notches.

Sending a _Stupefy_ at the last Death Eater still firing spells at him, Draco stalked forwards and cast a nonverbal trip jinx at the Dark Lord.

As he had expected, the Dark Lord reflected it easily, but his attention now focused on Draco instead of Harry, and he was momentarily surprised to see the son of one of his most loyal standing on the side of his enemy.

"Draco?" the Dark Lord hissed.

Draco bowed low, mocking the Dark Lord with his exaggerated manner.

"My Lord," Draco chirped, with faux sincerity. "I would like to announce my betrayal of the Dark Cause, and subsequent removal to the Light. I do so hope you understand, but I simply don't think I can work under the pressure any longer."

The Dark Lord flushed a very unflattering red, making his sallow complexion yet a more sickly pale. He shook with the force of his rage, and the simple impudence Draco displayed, and flourished his wand, but Draco was unconcerned about the Dark Lord's intentions. He was revelling in the feeling of being free from his forced servitude.

"Insolence!" The Dark Lord roared in fury, and Draco almost winced, but managed to maintain his indifferent expression. "You will pay for your words, young Malfoy. I shall show no mercy."

But Draco only shrugged, and in the corner of his eye watched as Harry ripped into the last remaining Death Eater, the others dead, dying or having run away as the carnage began.

The vampire advanced on the Dark Lord, even as the creature raised his wand to cast the infamous spell, the spell the Dark Lord favoured above all others, the spell that ended the lives of Harry's parents all those years ago. Pain stabbed at Draco as the Dark Lord tortured him through their link, through the hideous tattoo that marred his perfect skin.

Draco wasn't conscious of his screaming, but he did nonetheless, and the sound of his pain broke through Harry's haze. The vampire's attention snapped to him, and suddenly all those last vestiges of humanity vanished from his eyes in the desperate need he felt to protect Draco from the pain being dealt.

He could sense the pain originating from the Dark Lord, and with all the agility of a lion, Harry launched himself at the Dark Lord, cutting him down and interrupting his focused connection with Draco. The curse he had begun to mouth died on his lips, and he watched in almost comical surprise as Harry pinned him to the dirty, dusty ground.

Draco could tell Harry was in pain from the contact. Struggling to his knees, Draco panted for breath. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. He needed to stop Harry, something wasn't right. This wasn't the day to defeat the Dark Lord.

Draco lurched to his feet, struggling to push back the black spots in his vision.

"Harry!"

But it was the vampire in control; Harry was locked away inside his head. Those sharp claws were around the Dark Lord's throat. In the distance, there were shouts and cries as those few remaining Death Eaters saw their Master at the mercy of Harry Potter. Draco's heart pumped so loudly that he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, but all he saw was Harry, poised to dig his claws into the Dark Lord's throat. All Draco could think was, _this is all wrong_.

The Dark Mark shone down on their backs, full and bright, but at the same time, dark and sinful. It seemed to grin down, all-knowing, in on some secret Draco wasn't privy to, but instinctively knew was very, very bad. He had to stop Harry. He had to get them out of there.

"Harry!" Draco called out again, trying to rush forwards, but only managing a wonky sort of lurch. His vision swam, the memory of the pain moments ago still strong, still hindering his movement.

But he strove to move, and he got closer, inching along. He needed to stop Harry.

"Harry! Don't, Harry!"

They ignored him. The Dark Lord was shifting his body, almost freeing the hand that did not clutch at Harry, trying to stop that claw from piercing the skin, while his wand lay just out of reach.

"What are you doing, Harry?" The Dark Lord said, finally. Harry did not stop in his endeavours, but shifted a minor part of his attention to the Dark Lord's words. "Is this how the Boy Who Lived is to die? On the bloodied floor of the destroyed Hogsmeade? One of my minions will be here soon, Harry. You either kill me now, or die."

The Dark Lord smirked, but Harry only spared him a look full of loathing as his nail traced the outline of a vein in his neck, mesmerised by the blood beneath. "You cannot kill me, Harry. I'm far more powerful than you can imagine, more indestructible than you could know."

Draco's brow knitted at those words. What did he mean? Indestructible? There was more to the story than he knew, and Draco wasn't willing to let Harry sacrifice himself needlessly, if it could be avoided. They needed more time, more preparation. They had to get out of there, before the next wave of Aurors and Death Eaters arrived.

He inched a little closer. "Harry,"

But Harry did not hear his whisper.

The Death Eaters approached. Draco's breath caught in his throat, and he finally made it that last few feet. With a shaking hand, he laid his pale hand over Harry's bloodstained fingers. Their clutch on the Dark Lord did not falter, but Harry let his eyes meet Draco's.

"Harry," Draco repeated softly. "Let go. This is not right, you need to stop."

Harry's eyes only reflected the light in incomprehension. But Draco sensed his words were being processed.

"Harry, please. Not tonight. You can't do this, not tonight."

And, slowly, miraculously, Harry's fingers began to loosen their hold. His eyes cleared slightly. The Dark Lord began to be forgotten, and Draco placed a cool hand on Harry's equally cool cheek. The touch roused something in Harry, and he began to nod.

Draco wasn't sure what it was that penetrated Harry's blood haze, but he was glad when Harry let go of the Dark Lord. His instinct was releasing him from the clutches of panic, and he pushed his questions away for another time.

With a sob, Draco cupped both sides of Harry's face in his hands, and gave him a small kiss. "Thank you."

Harry's grip slackened to the point where he wasn't holding the Dark Lord at all, as his conscious mind took over. He blinked, staring into Draco's eyes, registering him, before looking back down at the Dark Lord.

His eyes widened, and his body suddenly went rigid. He made a strangled sound that tore at Draco's heart.

Puzzled, Draco glanced at the Dark Lord. His lungs stopped working, and the Dark Lord, released from his impending doom, once more with the upper hand, chuckled.

"Well, well, _well_…"

Harry slumped, the silver dagger imbedded in his stomach moving with him. Draco was shocked, and stared at the dagger as though it were the most amazingly dreadful thing in the universe, as though it held the answers to life itself. He couldn't comprehend what he was seeing.

A small line of dark blood welled at the wound, soaking through Harry's clothes. Draco watched in morbid fascination. The Dark Lord chuckled again.

"It seems as though Harry is not as invulnerable as he would have people believe."

Then, everything happened at once.

Draco snapped from his daze as sudden anger welled within him like fire, licking at his skin and veins, unquenchable and violate. With a roar, he picked up his fallen wand, and fired the first spell that came to mind at the cackling Dark Lord.

"_Sectusempra_!"

Caught unaware, the Dark Lord countered the spell too late, and several large gashes formed across his arms and face. Screaming indiscernibly, the Dark Lord retreated several steps.

Aurors began to appear, distributed throughout the battle site, and they wasted no time in apprehending many of the Death Eaters, even as a few sly press members managed to enter the village and snap a picture or ten of the injured Dark Lord.

Finally, the closest Death Eaters surrounded their Master, and as one, they Disapparated.

Draco paid no attention once he perceived there was no more threat, however. He hunched over the wounded Harry, and was frantic and hysterical by the time Severus found him.

"What do we do, Severus?" He asked his Godfather beseechingly, but the man only shook his head.

"We have to take him back to Hogwarts."

Casting a Disillusionment charm over all three of them, Severus Levitated Harry before leading the three of them from the scene. He was as eager as Draco to be rid of it.

As they left, Draco held onto Harry's hand, keeping constant eye contact. "You're going to be fine." He repeated over and over, more to himself than to comfort Harry.

Harry only smiled wanly, feeling Draco's skin against his. His mind had not returned to him fully, he could still feel the need for vengeance and blood, but he could repress it, knowing that he was incapacitated, knowing that Draco was with him, and that Draco wouldn't leave.


	14. XIII

**A/N:** Well… Um. I don't know about you, but I have no idea what happened.

By the way, Ann, here you go;

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Harry woke up slowly from his unnatural sleep. Madame Pomfrey must have given him a sleeping potion. He wouldn't have slept naturally himself.

The first thing Harry felt upon waking was the way his head throbbed with the worst headache he had ever encountered. The next was that he was alone, and in the infirmary.

Sighing, he reclined back into his pillows and tried to remember what had happened, what had brought him there, to the infirmary.

He remembered the absolute fury he had felt when McGonagall had told him to stay, not to help those in need. He couldn't stay safe while they were in peril, however, and had escaped the office. He could recall feeling the vampire taking over his senses slowly, creeping over his senses and taking control of his actions. He had been blinded by his dreadful need to kill all the Death Eaters he saw, seeing them as enemies, even as he sensed those who were innocent, hiding in the rubble, injured, or worse.

It had been an odd sensation, the way his mind seemed to fall back, relinquish all control and let the beast, as it were, take over. It was like watching everything he did as though he were an audience member, without any power to change the course of the show, just watching and praying.

He could still feel the hot course of hatred as he saw the DADA professor, still smell his acrid stench of fear, scent the blood that had beat in that man's body, he could still see the arc of blood, feel the satisfaction flow through his body as the man died.

It horrified Harry, that he had lost all control, that he had been unable to prevent himself from turning into some death-crazed creature of legend. He was afraid it would happen again, that he would never be able to control himself on the night of the New Moon from then on. That he'd turn into a wild monster again and again, seeking blood.

Shivering, Harry recalled the way that Voldemort had appeared, just when he had longed for a more satisfying kill, more blood. That presence within him had risen as the Dark Lord approached, it had coerced and prompted Harry into action as Voldemort spoke. Harry had not understood anything the snake-like man had said, but he could see the loathing etched into every pigment of his pale skin, could read his threat in the way the man held himself. Harry had risen to the bait, had attacked, and then… and just as that little evil thing within him had rejoiced, had blossomed and spread pain through his body, Harry had seen that Draco was there. That Draco was in pain.

Everything within him had urged him to protect Draco, and he had gone directly to the source, pressed his claws against the soft flesh of the evil one's throat.

Harry growled in memory, remembering the acute rage he had felt. The man had threatened Draco, had given him pain, and that, more than his own hatred, his own pain, had prompted him to attack the man. He had to be stopped.

The presence flinched and cried out in pain as Harry's claws dug into that throat. It told him to release the man, to let go, he wasn't supposed to kill him! He couldn't do that!

But Harry ignored the presence, ignored that black little hated worm that infested his mind. He would kill the evil thing.

And then… and then Draco had been there. Pleaded with him. Harry couldn't say no - the vampire couldn't say no - to its Chosen.

The vampire purred when Draco touched him, Harry had felt so happy for a moment that he forgot about the Dark one, forgot that he was still dangerous.

That moment cost him, for the pain in the next second had been unbearable, real, agonising pain. He had bled.

Now, thinking back on all he knew, Harry knew that it had been exceedingly foolish to go on a blood haze rampage when he was vulnerable, when it was the New Moon. If Voldemort had struck his heart, he would have died. As it was, Harry was severely weakened now, with what little blood he could sustain missing from his system. No amount of Blood Replenishing Potions would give it back to him, either, there was only one way.

Trying to ignore his thirst for now, Harry tentatively ran his fingers over the place where Voldemort's dagger had wounded him. The wound was closed over, healed, but a scar remained. Harry was not sorry for this, however. He could live with a scar, if only he could live. He would think before acting so foolishly again.

Sitting up, and ignoring his headache, Harry cast about for a sign of Madame Pomfrey. He could not sense her in the immediate vicinity, but he could hear muted voiced coming from her office.

Curious, Harry slid from the bed and stood beside the door silently.

"…surprised he's still alive. I know nothing of vampire healing, but that wound was deep, it made him loose much of his blood, I don't see how he could live after that."

The voice was Madame Pomfrey, and Harry furrowed his brows. Did he lose so much blood? He felt relatively fine, now. Just a little achy. He glanced out the windows, and saw that the moon had risen, and he smiled.

"He's been in that induced coma for almost a whole day, now." McGonagall was saying. "Surely he would have become worse, or better, by now? We would know if he were to die before now."

Harry felt the room's collective feelings, the uncertainty and fear. He was faintly touched by their worry for him, but felt that it was unnecessary.

"When do you suppose he'll wake, Poppy?" Harry heard Severus speak for the first time. "What will he need when he does?"

"I do not know the answer to either of your questions, Severus. Only time will tell." Madame Pomfrey sighed. "There is so little known about vampires, it's impossible to know anything at all about what could happen."

There was a tense silence, and Harry was about to step away and slink back into his hospital bed when the Matron spoke again.

"What about Harry's friends? Have they heard, do they know about his condition?"

The Headmistress sighed. "I'm afraid not. They have been rather… uncooperative. I'm afraid Harry had a falling out with them."

"What of Draco?" Severus spoke up once more.

"He left half an hour ago, not five minutes before you arrived. I expect he should be back soon, he wouldn't leave Harry's side all day, and I finally convinced him to have dinner in the Great Hall."

Harry smiled. Draco really cared, and that made him feel infinitely better.

He left the door, as silently as he had approached, and wandered back to his bed. But he could not sit, could not remain in that place. He needed to find Draco, to assure himself that he was okay.

Leaving the infirmary, Harry took the route to the Great Hall, thinking he might run into Draco. But as he got closer, Harry noticed that there was no one in the halls, that his internal clock told him it was late, too late for dinner to still be running. Suddenly concerned, Harry tapped into the currents that lingered in the hallway, and found a trail that would lead him to Draco.

Sounds of arguing reached his ears, followed by the barely restrained anger and aggression. Harry hurried his pace.

In seconds, he stood under the arch of the hallway. Ron, Seamus and a few of the Sixth Years had cornered Draco into a corner. They were snarling and flexing their muscles, readying themselves for a fight.

Draco looked calm and composed, replying to their taunts with infallible contempt. However, Harry could see through the façade, and the blonde was aware that even with magic, he couldn't take on five irate Gryffindors.

"Out for a stroll without your goons, Malfoy?" Ron sneered, and the expression seemed almost to clash with his freckles. "How _brave_ of you."

The others laughed, and Harry seethed in anger. He drew the shadows about his body, and moved along the walls without being seen.

"Wouldn't want Daddy's Dearest get lost all by himself, would we boys?" Ron looked smug as the 'boys' guffawed.

Draco's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent. Something was keeping him silent, from expressing his thoughts. Somehow, he couldn't insult Harry's best friend, even if that friend had betrayed him.

That didn't stop him from slipping his wand surreptitiously into his hand.

Harry watched Draco's wand slide into place, and wondered what he would do. Hiding in the near shadows, Harry wanted to see Draco's next actions.

"What? Cat got your tongue, Ferret?"

Draco's eye twitched, but other than that, he remained still, as though carved from ice.

"I think this little Death Eater wannabe needs to be taught a lesson in manners." Ron told his lackeys. They nodded in fervent anticipation. "It's impolite not to answer a question, Malfoy."

Draco quirked an eyebrow, affecting his air of nonchalance easily. Harry watched the cracks widen in his otherwise infallible façade.

"Oh? I apologise, Weasel. I had thought it rhetorical."

The drawl in his voice angered Ron, making his face turn a severe shade of puce. "You had better keep your trap shut, _Ferret_, if you know what's good for you!"

Draco only smirked, and Ron reached the end of his endurance. Harry almost snorted – Ron's fuse was as short as ever.

With a violent step forward, Ron pulled his wand from his robe, and pointed it threateningly at Draco. Harry growled lowly in his throat, too low for anyone to hear, but was nevertheless instantly on the offensive. No one would hurt Draco. No one would get away with it, not even Ron.

Preparing himself for attack, Harry watched.

Draco raised his wand slightly, but not enough for Ron or the others to notice. The Gryffindors were cheering Ron on, confident that the battle would go to them. Ron was preparing to say the first incantation that came to mind, and Draco already had his shield charm in the forefront of his mind.

"_Impedimenta_-!"

But Draco had already raised his shield. "_Protego_!"

Harry was pleased at Draco's response, keeping any damage down to a minimum. He wanted to ask Draco what brought the change in character, but it was neither the time nor the place to begin any discussions.

Ron growled at the failed attack, and was about to cast his second, when Harry stepped out of the shadows and stood in front of Draco.

"Ron." Harry's voice was a growl, menacing and holding back none of the power that surged at the tips of his fingers, power that threatened Ron silently.

Ron stepped back, the jinx dying before it left his lips. "H-Harry,"

Harry glared at his once best friend. "I think you should leave."

For a moment, Ron looked like he wanted to argue, to stay and have it out with Harry, too, but one look at the murderous glint in Harry's darkened eyes, and he thought better of it.

As the Gryffindors were fleeing, Ron called back to Harry. "This isn't who you are, Harry."

Harry contemplated him for a long, tense moment. "Perhaps this isn't who you are, Ron."

Once they were gone from sight, Harry glanced over Draco's body for any injuries.

"Are you okay?"

Draco scoffed, and gave Harry a smile that lit the vampire's heart up with warmth. "Am I okay!? Geez, Harry. It was only a few idiotic Gryffindors. I could've handled it."

Harry smiled. "I'm sure you could."

Draco let it pass, and suddenly looked concerned. "Never mind _me_, how are _you_? Why are you out of the Hospital Wing – wait, when did you wake up!?"

Shrugging, Harry stepped forward, into Draco's personal space. He tugged at a lock of perfect blonde hair that had fallen out of place.

"You know me." Harry murmured, lifting the lock to his nose, inhaling the scent. "Mysterious. Full of secrets."

Draco wasn't satisfied with the answer. "Did Pomfrey give you the all-clear? Did you tell her you left? When _did_ you wake up?"

Harry let his fingers flicker over the pale features, soaking in the warmth that lay beneath his touch.

"I woke up just before I found you." He gave Draco's lips a swift swipe of his tongue, swallowing the gasp Draco let slip. "You know me. I move with the wind."

Letting out a frustrated breath, even as he found it difficult to breathe, Draco pondered whether it was possible to get a straight answer out of the vampire at all.

"Fine," Draco said, giving up. "Have your secrets. See if I care."

Harry laughed, and Draco smiled, loving the difference it made in Harry's countenance. He looked more… carefree. Happy.

"And – thank you." Draco said the words with hesitation, looking away from Harry as he fought his blush.

Harry looked at him in question. Draco cleared his throat – why was it so hard to say something so simple? "For standing up to Ron for me."

Harry smiled, and guided Draco's chin so that he could look the Slytherin in the eyes.

"I would do it again," Harry murmured the words reverently, showing what he felt with his eyes more than with his meager words. "For you."

Draco felt the weight of the words, saw the look in Harry's eyes. It touched him deeply, and he knew then that he could be happy with Harry. They were as different as water and oil, and yet they were drawn together, placed like pieces in a puzzle. There was no where Draco would rather be than in Harry's arms, in Harry's presence.

Tears suddenly blurring his vision, Draco threw his arms around Harry in a tight embrace.

"You know I love you, right?" he choked the words out through the lump in his throat, burying his face in the crook of Harry's cool neck.

Harry laid his head atop Draco's, a silly grin pulling at his lips. "I know, love, I know."

They stood there, holding each other for an eternity.

* * *

In the Gryffindor common room, Hermione sat with a book open on her lap, reading sporadically as her eyes seemed constantly drawn to the portrait hole.

Ron hadn't come back from dinner yet, which had finished three quarters of an hour ago, and Hermione knew – just _knew_ – that he had gotten himself into some sort of trouble. She shouldn't have left early as she did. But dang if she didn't want to get through the pile of books she had to read.

Finally, just as she was about to mark her place and give up all pretense of study, Ron stumbled through the door after his newly acquired Gryffindor lackeys.

Hermione glared at them until they passed, shame-faced, up to their dormitories. Before Ron could escape, however, she pinned him with her stare, and he inched towards her. His expression reminded her of her four year old cousin when he had stolen the bowl of lollies from the table at Christmas, after his mother had warned him not to.

"Ronald," his face paled. He knew that when she used his full name, she meant business. "What have you done now?"

He didn't meet her eyes, instead stopped a few paces away from where she sat in one of the squishy chairs before the fire's hearth. He shuffled from foot to foot, his posture showing that he was clearly guilty of something.

"I – I don't understand what you mean, 'Mione." He muttered.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, and sat back. She remained silent, and waited.

He gulped.

"It's – I… I mean, well…" he was starting to sweat now, and she crossed her arms, tapping her nails against her forearm as she watched him squirm.

"Well?" her tone was acidic, and he winced.

"Don't be like this, 'Mione!" he burst out finally. "It's not like I did any harm or anything!"

Her shrewd stare turned into a glower as she jumped to her feet. "_Any harm_!? What is that supposed to mean – what did you _try_ to do!?"

"N-nothing he didn't deserve!"

Hermione took two steps forward, and poked Ron in the chest with a finger to emphasize her anger. "You listen here, Ronald, and I do hope that you come to your senses. But first, tell me what you did. You'd better hope that whatever you did, it isn't irreversible."

* * *

Harry pushed Draco against the wall outside one of the private suites that had long since been left unused by any in the castle. No doubt it had once housed some great Lord or Lady, but was now left abandoned and forgotten by the current inhabitants.

Neither boy was thinking of this as Harry slid his fingers around Draco's neck to clutch at the hair at its base, and deepened their kiss.

Draco moaned, tightening the arm he had around Harry's shoulders so that his body was brought closer to Harry's. Already the cold of Harry's skin penetrated the layers of clothes between them, but the fire that licked along Draco's flushed skin could not be abated so easily.

They scrambled to open the door, and stumbled inside as they did, unwilling to let go of each other. Harry immediately shut the door and pressed Draco against it.

Clothes were quickly lost as their purpose was no longer needed, and pressed cold, penetrating kisses along Draco's fevered pulse. The blonde's heartbeat quickened in reply, and Harry ached to feel the rush of drinking Draco's blood, to experience that rush of heat and arousal it gave him.

He growled at the mounting anticipation within him, wanting to give in, sink his fangs into that soft flesh and feast, but he took command of himself with great effort, instead sucking on the hollow at the base of Draco's neck to taste the beads of salty sweat that had collected there.

Draco moaned and pushed his body against Harry's hard, unyielding one, feeling as though his flesh were under a fiery assault. He _needed_ Harry.

Harry was more than willing to comply with the Slytherin's wishes, and the next time Draco found a coherent thought, he noticed that he was on a bed, and Harry was doing _amazing_ things with his mouth.

Groaning his appreciation of that talent, Draco whimpered when Harry pulled away. However, almost immediately a finger inserted itself in his opening, and Draco hissed as he was stretched slowly and thoroughly, torturously. By the time Harry deemed him ready, he was incoherent with his all-consuming need, and Harry felt an answering need within himself.

Feeling the bloodlust rise within him, Harry quickly thrust his aching erection into Draco's tight heat, and the mere feeling of warmth and contentedness it gave him was almost enough to make him explode.

As their passion rose to fevered heights, Harry let his fangs unsheathe themselves, and Draco writhed and arched his body to bring Harry's cool skin into better contact with his own, and just as both felt that they couldn't feel anymore than they already did, Harry sank his teeth into Draco's neck, and his blood flowed freely into Harry's eager mouth.

* * *

Draco toyed with Harry's fingers as the pondered all the questions that ran though his mind, all the questions he doubted he'd ever find answers to.

Absently he noted that Harry no longer felt as cool as he usually did.

With an unfathomable expression, Harry leant over Draco and blew in his ear. When Draco's attention was focused on him, Harry quirked his lips into a smile, and Draco relaxed slightly, and shuffled closer to lean his head against the brunette's shoulder.

"What's bothering you?" Harry asked, as Draco held their hands up a little higher, interlacing their fingers as he thought of an appropriate answer.

"I'm just… wondering," He said finally, and Harry regarded him silently, waiting for more of an answer.

"What happens now?"

Harry let the silence stretch between them as he thought about all that those words could mean. But, for the most part, he knew he didn't have an adequate answer for the question. He didn't have foresight, and while he could speculate, he couldn't tell the truth with absolute certainty.

"I don't know," He said it honestly, and with such sincere helplessness and surrender that Draco looked up at him in something akin to surprised alarm.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked sharply.

Harry shrugged and brought their hands to his mouth. He kissed Draco's hand, and smiled a little bitterly.

"You never know, I guess." He sighed. "My life has so many twists and turns that I can hardly keep them all straight in my mind. If I stressed about it too much, I know I'd lose the plot completely, so I try not to think about it."

Draco gave him a mirthless smile, accepting the explanation. He could respect that.

There was silence again as Harry basked in his momentary contentment, and Draco continued to listen to his thoughts.

Finally, he spoke again. "I don't understand any of it," He clenched his eyes shut in frustration, willing his mind to comprehend. "Your sudden vampirism, your interest in me, the whole episode with Voldemort, none of it. It all seems so… unfathomable."

Harry sighed and brushed back Draco's bangs with his free hand. "I know. I don't really understand a lot of that myself.

"But what I do know is this: whatever the circumstances, whatever the reasons, I'm glad it brought me closer to you. I'm happy I had the chance, Draco, and I wouldn't change that for anything."

Draco blinked back tears, hiding his face in the crook of Harry's neck, and grasped his hand tighter. "Neither would I."


	15. Epilogue

**A/N: **And this is it… I hope I didn't leave any gaping holes. Hmm. It was a nice ride anyway. .

**Disclaimer:** For the last time here, I say once more, I didn't do it. I mean… I don't own Harry Potter and his friends and etc.

Epilogue

Hermione entered the library and immediately marched over to the table where the three sat, hunched over books they were supposed to be studying, but were instead arguing with each other in heated whispers. Harry had made up with Ron easily enough, once he was sure he had truly repented – which was after Hermione had given him a good talking to – and Draco had even consented to give Ron a probationary period, after Harry 'persuaded' him to, but they still had their moments, however, Hermione thought that their current arguing was all bark and no bite.

She set her books on the table with a loud _thunk_, making everyone but Harry jump. Grinning wildly, her hair slightly more frazzled than usual, and with a brilliant sparkle in her eye, Hermione started whispering excitedly.

"Harry, you won't _believe_ all of what I found out about vampires." She took a deep breath, and continued when she saw that she had everyone's attention. "Well, there are a few different types of vampires. There are ones that are bitten and injected with the virus, those ones are the most common and well-known variety."

Harry nodded, he'd done some reading on vampires – obviously – and already knew about this. Snape had been a well of information on the subject, too. The man was infinitely helpful when he decided he could be. Harry was glad that they had ended up understanding each other better, falling more easily into their mentor/student relationship. Not that either of them would ever say anything about it.

"And then there are the ones that are born vampires, or rather, are born with a dominant vampire gene which manifests in a witch or wizard just before they hit puberty, the Inheritance makes them a natural vampire.

"But you aren't either of these, Harry, because you weren't bitten and I checked and double checked and while you had one or two vampires in your ancestry, you don't have enough of the gene for it to be dominant – and if you had Inherited the virus, we would have noticed a lot sooner.

"No, I believe you are one of the few people in history who have had a vampire gene or two, not enough to Inherit vampirism, but have enough magic and innate Darkness which combined to turn you into what you are – A Shadow Vampire."

"Innate Darkness?" Harry repeated blankly. The air around him seemed to grow more shadowy for a second as he considered what that meant. Was he turning into something like the Dark Lord?

"It's just a tendency towards Dark things – night, shadow, Dark creatures like spiders and snakes – or at least, that's what the books say. I think that it just means you were both born at a natural time of darkness which mixed with your own inclinations – also the few vampire genes you have – and then when Vol-_Voldemort_ tried to kill you as a baby, he transferred a little of his Darkness to you, which all coalesced to a point during the summer, when Voldemort was active and all these things were boiling inside you, which, in turn, manifested in your body making you what you are."

"Wow," Draco breathed, his eyes watching Harry's face and expression as he worked through the information entering his thoughts at too-fast a pace.

"I remembered the things you told me, Harry, and I looked up the abilities you described and they fit the list of what a Shadow Vampire should have. Your affinity with the night, with shadows and darkness, hearing the walls whisper thoughts and feelings. It all fits."

Harry's face had closed off, but he nodded to Hermione in thanks. "I appreciate the work you put into finding this out, 'Mione. I know it must've been painstaking."

Hermione blushed and shrugged, she liked researching, after all, and doing it for Harry made it all the more worth while.

Harry stood and walked out of the library, leaving Hermione and Ron to look after him in slight puzzlement. Draco didn't wait to be invited to go along with Harry – he knew he wouldn't be asked – and brought it upon himself to follow the brunette out the doors and into a dark, deserted corridor.

"Are you okay?" he asked, placing a calming hand on Harry's shoulder.

His hand was shrugged off, but he didn't give up. Walking around Harry so that he was looking him in the eye, Draco asked again.

Harry sighed deeply and stared at the wall for a long time. The shadows pooled around his feet and Draco swore they shifted and eddied around Harry's form as they stood there, still as any of the inanimate statues lining the corridor.

"It's just…" Harry shook his head, and bared his teeth briefly giving Draco a flash of his incisors. "I've always felt dark, or at least, darker than I would have been if Voldemort hadn't given me this scar. How long can a person endure as much darkness and hate as I have without turning into what Voldemort is?"

Draco gave Harry a wan smile and touched him lightly on his lightning-bolt scar, and felt the brief touch of a shadow to his hand. It was like cold fur against his skin.

"I know that it might come as a shock to you, to hear all these things, but-" Draco gave a small shrug. "I believe you'd have turned out this way even without the Dark Lord's help. You've got this wildness about you, that you've always had, and it may be what people classify as 'Dark' but I think it's just another kind of night. One that isn't evil, or wrong, but something that you just have, and which makes you this amazing being.

"You're Harry, and you've always had this potential, and I think of it as a gift, not a curse or a virus, because it's not a _bad_ thing, even if it isn't always a _good_ thing."

Harry smiled and pressed his cool forehead against Draco's warm one, and Draco soaked up Harry's presence like a sponge. He could bask in it forever and still never have had enough.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, his eyes closed, the shadows dancing about his skin. "You've done so much for me, and I've given hardly anything back. I hardly deserve it."

Draco pressed a kiss to Harry's lips, lingering for a moment longer than necessary, but revelling in the fact that he could linger, that he had these moments with Harry, and they were perfect.

"I love you," he murmured, and that was answer enough.


End file.
